catch me i'm falling
by thewickedverkaiking
Summary: "Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?" Connor wasn't always angry. There used to be a time when he was just a little kid who loved playing dress up with Zoe, watching Star Wars with Larry, and baking with Cynthia. He was just a hurting boy who got lost along the way...
1. prologue

**hey everyone!** **this is my first fic for the dear evan hansen fandom. it's going to be about connor murphy's backstory, and i hope you enjoy it! please leave comments, constructive criticism is appreciated.** **any trigger warnings will be at the start of each chapter; if i forget to add one in please let me know!** **summary: in which we meet connor and his parents...**

The first time Cynthia held Connor in her arms, she sobbed.

He'd been born seven weeks early. Cynthia remembered the panic, the fear when her water broke, how the only thought that played through her mind was "it's too early, it's too early". The rest was all a blur; the rush to the hospital just before midnight, going into labor, the delivery, how her son was whisked away to the neonatal infant care unit before she had a chance to even take a good look at him.

She and Larry had gone to see him in the morning, and she'd cried when she saw how tiny he was, looking almost lost in the tangle of wires and machines that were keeping him alive. He weighed just above four pounds, and neither she nor Larry could believe that anybody could be so small.

"He's perfect," Cynthia beamed, as she hugged her little bundle of joy. "He's already so beautiful." Connor was still small, his face bright red after having screamed his little lungs out. He had several wisps of wavy brown hair, and his eyes, now closed as he dozed in his mother's arms, were a light blue flecked with brown, which Cynthia found made his gaze all the more endearing.

Larry admired the strong grip Connor had on his mother's pinky finger, even in his sleep. "He's going to the best Little League player once he's old enough." He had so many plans for Connor, they were going to have the best father-and-son times together, going to baseball games, fishing, and golfing.

And they were going to have the perfect loving family.

But as it turned out, parenting would be a lot harder than either of them realized.

.

.

.

It didn't take them too long to find out that while Connor was a pretty easygoing baby when it came to feeding and playtimes, he absolutely abhorred bedtimes and naptimes. He would scream his protests out as long as he could, and no amount of singing, cajoling, or rocking would do any good.

"Let him cry, don't keep picking him up, he'll learn to fall asleep eventually if you don't interfere," Larry said, as eight o' clock struck and Cynthia carried Connor, struggling and crying, up to the nursery.

"He's having trouble getting to sleep, I need to rock him for a while." She replied, checking his diaper and then buttoning up his onesie.

"Mother never rocked any of us, we all went to sleep by ourselves," Larry argued.

"I can't bear to hear him cry!" Cynthia said, as she gently rocked Connor, whose howls only seemed to increase in volume.

Larry sighed, and headed downstairs to his study, hoping to get away from the noise and finish some work. Cynthia tried lullaby after lullaby, bedtime story after bedtime story, before Connor finally fell asleep, having exhausted himself after over an hour of crying. She gave a sigh before retreating to the kitchen, where she made herself a mug of hot chocolate. Propping her head up tiredly with her left arm, she sipped the steaming hot drink and stared blankly at the countertop.

From down the hallway, a door opened and shut, then footsteps came up the stairs. Larry shuffled into the kitchen. She looked up at him. "Is he asleep?" he asked.

"Yes. Finally."

"You've got to be firmer with him, this can't go on every night… It's tiring you out, it tires me out. It's not good for him either. We've got to let him learn how to fall asleep by himself, you need to leave him alone when he cries."

Cynthia groaned, setting the cup down. They'd been having this discussion every night. Connor was barely two months old and every bedtime was already a battle of the wills that was beginning to wear her down. "I can't bear to hear him cry and not do anything about it! I'm his mother!"

Larry frowned. "Cynthia, I'm his father. You know how much I love him too, I don't like to hear him cry like this either. But this is for his own good, you can't let him think he can boss you around."

"He's not bossing me around!" she protested, draining the cup and rinsing it under the tap.

"You're letting him control you, look at you—you're exhausted from all of this; all the singing, the rocking, the soothing."

She knew there were bags under her eyes, she couldn't deny the exhaustion that she was feeling now. But she shook her head and made her way upstairs. She didn't want to argue, she was already so tired. "Let's go to bed."

"Not yet," he said, turning to go back to his study. "There's still some emails I need to reply to."

The clock struck ten. In silence, she watched him go. She opened the nursery door to assure herself that Connor was still sleeping, then retired to the bedroom. The house was quiet at last, but she felt too drained to truly enjoy it.

.

.

.

His loathing of sleeping aside, Connor was a relatively cheerful baby, always happy to smile at both strangers and friends. Cynthia and Larry couldn't be prouder. Larry especially, was ecstatic at having a son; an avid lover of sports, he'd bought sports-related clothes, bedsheets, and even books for the nursery as soon as they'd found out the baby would be a boy.

Cynthia herself read stacks of books on parenting, how to take care of your baby, how to be a good mother, and more—some purchased from the bookshop, others borrowed from the library or friends. The fact that he was a preemie only increased the protectiveness (and worry) that she felt for him. As Connor grew up and began eating different kinds of dishes, she spent hours in the kitchen trying out various baby food recipes—half of which he threw to the floor in disgust, much to her chagrin.

Once, she read that classical music was beneficial for a baby's brain; the next day, she came home with a dozen CDs of classical music, all by different composers. While Larry had scoffed, Connor fell in love with them. Albeit being just seven weeks old, his eyes lit up at the first note, and then excitedly started kicking his legs and wiggling his arms in some sort of 'dance', causing both his parents to crack up.

"Look at that kick," Larry pointed out. "He's going to be so good at sports when he's older!"

 **please leave a review or feel free to drop me a message on tumblr, i'm thewickedverkaiking... constructive criticism/tips to improve are always appreciated** **also, feel free to leave prompts, i'll try to incorporate them into future chapters :))**


	2. sisters and slumberland

**summary: in which zoe is born, and connor learns some lessons from her**

.

.

.

Connor was nearly eight months old when Cynthia became pregnant with Zoe.

"You're going to be a big brother!" exclaimed Cynthia joyfully after she and Larry returned from their visit to the gynecologist. Connor grinned, an endearing smile that revealed two little teeth peeking out from his gums. "Are you excited?" he just clapped his hands and turned his attention back to his toy cars.

Over the weeks, as her belly grew larger, Connor would often place his hands on it and sign 'baby'—Cynthia had taught him baby sign language from a book a few months before.

"Yes! You're going to have a sister!" Cynthia nodded, delighted at the prospect of having both a son and a daughter. It wasn't too long before she'd gone shopping and bought a half dozen baby dresses, along with hats, shoes, and skirts.

Connor was sixteen months old when Zoe was born, and Larry brought him to the hospital the next day to let him visit.

"Look! It's Zoe!" cooed Cynthia as Larry let Connor examine his baby sister. Connor gurgled appreciatively and leaned towards her slightly cautiously. But when Zoe turned to look at him, he immediately reached out a hand to touch her chubby cheek. She reached back out with her own tiny hand from underneath the blanket, trying to swat back at him.

"Fun!" Connor giggled, clapping his hands together.

Larry and Cynthia laughed. "I remember when my baby brother was born, I was four, and I cried in the hospital because I was jealous that I wasn't the center of attention anymore." Cynthia recalled, she and Larry dissolving into another fit of laughter. Connor didn't know what was going on, but seeing his parents so happy made him join in as well.

There in the hospital, with Connor in Larry's arms and Zoe in Cynthia's, the Murphys knew at that moment that they had all they could wish for. They were the happiest family, with two beautiful, healthy kids, a grand house, and a steady income.

.

.

.

But the difference between the two kids soon could not be more apparent, especially when it came to sleeping. When naptime or bedtime rolled around, Cynthia only needed to sing two lullabies before Zoe drifted off to slumber land. After all their struggles with Connor, this seemed almost uncanny to them, and Cynthia found herself checking on Zoe multiple times during the night, almost afraid that her lack of crying might indicate something to be wrong.

Cynthia and Zoe came home after spending three nights in the hospital, and there had been some discussion over where to place Zoe's crib. While Larry wished for her to sleep in the nursery, Cynthia was concerned that Connor would prevent her from sleeping well, since he still put up a fight every time he had to go to bed. And so, Zoe's crib was tentatively placed in the master bedroom next to their king-sized bed.

Unlike her brother, Zoe took to sleeping extremely well. This, of course, piqued Connor's interest, for he seemed to wonder how his baby sister could fall asleep with minimal fuss and crying. He kept pointing and crawling towards the bedroom when he knew it was her naptime.

One day, Cynthia had him playing next to her while she read on the bed. After putting Zoe into her crib, she lay down to catch a few winks, while Connor chewed on his teddy bear's paw.

Every now and then, he toddled over to peer at his sister through the sides of the crib. Then he crawled back up the bed.

"Zo-zo sleep?" He asked Cynthia.

"Yes, Zo-zo is sleeping quietly, not like you," she joked. But instead of grinning back at her like he usually did, he went back and sat in front of the cot. After only ten minutes, Zoe was already sound asleep. Rather impressed, Connor cocked his head and leaned closer as if to double-check she was really asleep. Then he returned to lying on the floor and babbling to his stuffed animals.

That night, Cynthia zipped him up in his light blue onesie, gave him one last drink of water and mentally steeled herself for the next hour of screaming and crying. To her surprise, as she put Connor into his cot, he looked up at her and asked, "I go sleep fast? Like Zo-zo?"

"Yes," she said, kissing him on his tummy and making him giggle. "If you go to sleep quickly like Zo-zo, we will be very happy."

"Zo-zo happy too?" He sounded surprised.

"Yes, I'm sure she will be very happy," she assured him.

"Okay." He said, turning onto his side and screwing his eyes shut. In just several minutes, Cynthia could tell from his breathing that he was asleep, and had to resist the urge to pinch herself. She tiptoed out of the nursery and gingerly closed the door, half-expecting him to wake up and cry again.

After listening outside for a minute or two, she was finally assured that he was truly asleep, and hurried downstairs to the kitchen where Larry was putting away the dinner dishes. Before he could ask anything, she spoke first, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

"He's asleep!"

"What? Connor?" The shock was evident.

"Yes! He said he wanted to-" but Larry had eagerly pushed past her and taken the stairs two at a time up to the nursery.

Quietly opening the door, he stared for a while at Connor, hugging his favorite bear to his chest and fast asleep. "Good grief." He muttered under his breath.

Cynthia appeared at the top of the stairs. "He said he wanted to sleep quickly like Zoe," she explained. "He was in the room with me during her naptime."

Ever since then, Connor went to bed with little fuss and tears, having realized that it was actually easier for himself instead of howling and crying. Obviously, Cynthia and Larry were ecstatic. One night, after the children had gone to bed and they themselves were turning in for the night, Cynthia joked, "If I'd known this was how he'd fall asleep, I'd have had Zoe earlier!"

 **please leave a review or feel free to drop me a message on tumblr, i'm thewickedverkaiking... constructive criticism/tips to improve are always appreciated (i need validation whoo)**

 **also, feel free to leave prompts, i'll try to incorporate them into future chapters :))**


	3. the princess and the dragon

**summary: in which connor is a princess, zoe is a dragon, and larry is not pleased**

 **prompt from rachel p**

 **tw: toxic masculinity**

.

.

.

From day one, Connor adored Zoe, he always looked for her during playtimes, and growing up they played everything together, from LEGOs to Barbies to matchbox cars. However, their all-time favorite game was dress-up.

Over the past few months, Cynthia had amassed a significant number of dress-up costumes for the children, and they would spend hours in the playroom pretending to be everything from dragons and superheroes to policemen and chefs. While Zoe was over a year younger than Connor, at four she was already an inch taller than him. Connor was small, a little on the skinny side, but he was a little ball of energy. And because of their similar sizes, they were able to fit comfortably into each other's costumes.

One night, they'd just finished dinner and had just over an hour left before bedtime. Connor took Zoe's hand and they scrambled upstairs, while Cynthia cleaned up and Larry went to watch a baseball game on the television.

"Let's play princess and dragon," Connor suggested, pushing the door open to the playroom. The two bounded in, yanking open the door to the large wardrobe.

"Can I play dragon? I was princess yesterday," Zoe begged, pulling down the green and orange costume from the hanger.

"Okay, then I'll be princess?" Connor asked.

Zoe nodded, putting a foot into the costume and pulling it up. "Zip." She ordered, turning around. She'd always been the bossy one, and even though Connor was older, he was more than happy to listen to her. He obliged, fumbling with the zip briefly before getting it to work. Then, he pulled the pink satin dress over his head before checking himself in the mirror that leaned against the wall. Zoe helped to zip him up.

"You're a very pretty princess, Connor," she giggled as he twirled. "And I'm a hungry dragon! I'm going to eat you! Rawr!"

Connor gave a little shriek and scrambled into the blanket fort the two had spent the afternoon building with Cynthia's help. "I'm in my castle, you can't eat me!"

And so, she chased him around the room for the next thirty minutes, both of them laughing and screaming, until she caught him and pretended to eat him. Finally, they plopped down in the blanket fort (or rather, what was left of it) to catch their breath.

"That was so fun," Connor grinned, smoothing out a wrinkle on the dress. Zoe nodded, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Just then, the playroom door opened. "Kids, time for bed!" Larry called, poking his head in.

"Coming!" Zoe yelled back and the two crawled out.

"Did you two have fun—" Larry paused, slightly startled. "Uh, Connor… why are you wearing a dress?"

"I'm a princess!" he smiled gleefully, twirling. "See! I can spin with the dress so nicely—oof!" Dizzy, he stumbled backwards and fell into one of the toy boxes. Zoe doubled over in laughter.

Larry gave him a hand, pulling him out. "Why don't the two of you take off your costumes and brush your teeth? It's getting late."

"Okay," they chorused, helping each other out of their costumes and running off to the bathroom. But Connor had not missed the disapproving look on his father's face when he had first seen him wearing the dress.

Later that night, he was fidgeting with his duvet, trying to get comfortable as the glow-in-the-dark arms of his clock pointed at nine and twenty. Cynthia had just left his room after reading him a bedtime story. She made it a point to read him and Zoe a bedtime story each, every night before they slept. Yesterday it had been about the Gruffalo—that one was actually kind of scary. He wondered if there was a Gruffalo hiding under his bed, or maybe outside his window? He shivered a little, pulling the duvet up closer to his chin.

Tonight's story wasn't so bad. It had been about Joseph in the Bible, who had a colorful shirt. Connor wanted a colorful shirt, maybe he'd ask Cynthia for one when she went shopping. Joseph's brothers didn't like his shirt, but that was not a problem for Connor because he had no brothers; and besides, he would share his shirt with Zoe because he was a good brother and wasn't selfish, and—

There was a knock at his door.

"Connor?" It was Larry.

"Yeah?"

Larry opened the door and came in, sitting on the side of his bed. Connor shifted a little so that he would have more space to sit. "Can I talk with you or do you want to sleep?"

"Talk!" He was wide awake now, and anyway talking was always more fun than sleeping.

Larry paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "Um, Connor…" he started, a little unsure of how to say it. "Is there a reason you were… you were playing princess just now?"

Oh. It was about still that princess thing. Connor didn't really know why Larry wanted to talk about it. Had he done something wrong? "We played princess and dragon, so we take turns."

"Connor, boys… don't wear dresses." Larry scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"It's play pretend. And Zoe wanted to play dragon. You always tell us to take turns." Parents were so confusing sometimes.

"You can play something else, like a prince or a knight," Larry offered. "You have a knight costume with a sword and a shield, remember?"

Connor frowned. "But that's not the story. It needs to have a princess in it."

"Well, let Zoe play the princess," Larry sounded impatient.

"I already said Zoe wanted to be the dragon! And we needed a princess so that was me!" Connor whined, his volume rising. "That's how the story is supposed to go." It wasn't that hard to understand, was it?

"Then play something else—"

"No! We wanted to play princess and dragon! We already played knight day before yesterday!" Why didn't Daddy get it?

"What's all this about?" Cynthia demanded, poking her head through the open doorway. "Lower your voices, Zoe's already sleeping."

"Daddy doesn't let me play princess and dragon with Zoe," Connor cried, bursting into tears.

Larry groaned. "Stop crying, Connor, that's babyish." He pulled a tissue from a box sitting on the bedside table and gave it to him. Connor wiped his eyes, sniffling indignantly. "He was dressing up as a princess with Zoe," Larry explained, turning towards his wife.

"So?"

"He was wearing a dress!" He shook his head, as if in disbelief.

Connor shredded the tissue, not looking up.

Cynthia shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Just let him have fun, Larry. They're kids, they want to play, it's no harm." See, Mummy got it. Maybe she understood him better. Or she was just smarter.

"He's a boy, Cynthia," Larry said, getting off the bed and walking towards the door. "He can't be wearing girls' clothes."

Connor dropped the shreds of the tissue onto the floor next to his bed.

"It's just a game," Cynthia insisted.

"No, it's not 'just a game', if he does this now, he'll think it's okay when he's older. You can't let him think it's alright now and then suddenly change your point of view when he grows up."

Connor kicked the wall angrily. He hated it when Larry kept talking about him like he was not there. Larry looked at him and sighed. "We'll talk about this tomorrow," he finally said, stepping out of the room.

Cynthia lingered in the doorway for a while after he walked past. Then she kissed Connor goodnight and shut the door behind her without saying a word, leaving him with his thoughts and what remained of the tissue still clutched in his small hand.

He wished that she would say something—anything—to reassure him that he hadn't actually done anything wrong.

.

.

.

 **please comment and leave kudos! im needy :))**  
 **also the star wars ep 8 trailer is coming out and I NEED SOMEONE TO SCREAM WITH ME**  
 **anyway hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking and feel free to leave me prompts**


	4. haunted

**summary: in which cynthia is a supportive parent, and larry is not**

 **tw: toxic masculinity/antiquated gender roles**

The next morning, Connor's alarm woke him up at eight in the morning. He threw his pillow at it, before reluctantly sitting up in bed and stretching. What Larry had said last night about 'talking tomorrow' still worried him. He wondered if Larry was angry at him. He didn't think so though, because he hadn't yelled, and Connor hadn't really been scolded either. He'd just seemed surprised, maybe… disappointed? While Connor hadn't seen any boys wear dresses, he didn't think there was anything wrong with wearing one, right?

"Connor! Your omelet is going to get cold if you don't hurry!" Cynthia called from downstairs, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Coming, mom!" he hollered back. The sooner he got down, the sooner they could have the talk, and the sooner they could get it over and done with. On the happier side, it was a Sunday, which meant not just omelet, but bacon as well, which was his favorite. Even better, Larry had a meeting later in the morning, which meant that they didn't have to go to church, and they could stay home and play.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he raced down the hallway, almost knocking Zoe over as she came out of her bedroom.

"Hi, Con," she smiled at him, still looking a little sleepy.

"Morning, Zo-Zo," he cheekily ran a hand through her messy hair and she playfully slapped him away.

She stepped closer to him. "Is Daddy still upset about last night?" she whispered in his ear.

He shrugged. "I don't know. But he said he wants to talk about it today, I think."

"Kids, come on!" Cynthia reminded them from the bottom of the stairs. "You can talk over breakfast."

Connor and Zoe slid down the banisters and skipped towards the table where Cynthia and Larry were waiting. Zoe eagerly grabbed a piece of crispy bacon, while Connor sipped his milk uneasily, his gaze darting between his mother and his father. Neither of them said anything at first, and Connor hoped that maybe they'd forgotten. He'd just started on his cheese omelet, however, when Larry cleared his throat.

"Uh, Connor, about last night…"

There it was. Connor's heart sank a little, but he finished his mouthful of omelet and looked up at his dad, who sat on his left. He gave a quick look to his right, but Cynthia was suddenly finding her cup of Earl Grey tea very interesting. Across from him, Zoe was looking at him with a concerned expression, the half-eaten piece of bacon still between her greasy fingers. The air was too tense and Connor shifted in his chair.

Larry sighed, and Connor didn't know if he was in trouble. Why had he worn the dress, he shouldn't have played princess, was it illegal? Could a boy go to jail for wearing a dress, or—

"Connor, I'm not going to scold you," Larry said, noticing his son's stricken expression. "Come here," he patted his knee. Connor slid off his chair and went to sit on his dad's lap. "How old are you now?" Larry asked, reaching for a napkin to wipe off Connor's milk moustache.

"Four and a half!" he grinned.

"You're a big boy now, so one important thing is to be like one, okay?" Larry smiled encouragingly at him. "That also means you can't play princesses, or dress like girls, understand? You've got to be a strong, tough boy! Think you can do that, son?"

Connor frowned. "Yeah, but why can't I wear a dress?"

"You're a boy, you're supposed to be strong, so you can't wear girls' clothes."

"But I'm strong, too!" Zoe huffed. "Yesterday, I lifted the box of dolls from the shelf without help!"

"Yes, honey, I know you're strong too," Larry assured her. "But Connor is a boy, so it's a different kind of strong."

"So I can still play princess when I'm four-and-a-half?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Larry replied, as Connor returned to his seat, and Cynthia poured some Fruit Loops into his bowl.

.

.

.

After breakfast, Larry left for his business meeting, and Cynthia put away the dishes while the children watched Sesame Street on the television. After the show ended, they went up to their parent's bedroom to look for her.

"Play with us?" Zoe pleaded with her best puppy dog look.

Cynthia put her magazine down. "Sure, what do you want to do?"

"Bubbles?" Connor suggested.

Zoe nodded. "Yeah, bubbles!"

"Okay," Cynthia agreed, following them down to the garage to get the bubble solution, then out to the spacious backyard. The sun was bright, it was a pleasant day in early June, and the lawn was freshly mowed. Connor and Zoe took turns blowing the bubbles and chasing them. Cynthia joined in occasionally, although she was more content just to stand back and watch.

It was Connor's turn to blow the bubbles, and Zoe ran around shrieking in delight as she tried to pop as many as she could.

"Mummy, can I ask something?" Connor asked, standing next to Cynthia as he blew through the dripping bubble wand.

"Fire away, young man," she winked at him.

He winked back, but his expression was still serious. "Is it bad that," he hesitated. "Is it bad that I like dresses?"

Cynthia thought for a while, then shook her head. "No, Con, it's not."

"Then why doesn't Daddy like it?"

Larry came from a conservative family, Cynthia did not. But politics had never come up when they'd first met in college, or even when they started dating. While she knew his family's stance on issues like gay marriage, abortion, and more, Larry himself had said very little about such topics, and when he did, it was never really in a hateful or hurtful way. Yet Cynthia knew that he did not necessarily approve of them. When they had Connor and Zoe, it never really occurred to either of them how their differing views were going to affect their children. Cynthia didn't want to teach Connor and Zoe to contradict their father, but at the same time, she wanted so badly for Connor to know that he wasn't weird or doing anything wrong for wanting to wear a dress.

She bit her lip. Connor was still waiting for an answer. "Some people… just don't like it," she said, the answer lame and hollow on her tongue. She needed time to think about how to explain it better.

Connor blew out more bubbles for Zoe to chase. "Daddy doesn't like mushrooms, but still lets me eat them," he pointed out.

Cynthia couldn't help but smile. He was smart, there was no denying it. She tried to scramble for a better answer, but fortunately Zoe interrupted. "My turn," she informed Connor, gesturing towards the bubble wand.

He reluctantly handed it to her, glancing expectantly at his mom. "Why don't we talk about this later?" she suggested. He nodded, and darted off to pop the bubbles Zoe was blowing.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all back in the house; Cynthia had changed them out of their wet and soapy clothes and into fresh ones. Zoe lay on the living room couch playing with her Barbies, so Connor decided it was a good time to continue the conversation with his mom. He wandered into the kitchen, where Cynthia was chopping up vegetables for lunch. "Can we, uh, still talk?" he asked, nervously fiddling his thumbs.

"Sure," Cynthia said, peeling the carrots.

"Why doesn't Daddy like me to wear dresses?"

"Honey, some people have certain ideas on how people should dress. They think that dresses are girls' clothes, so boys shouldn't wear them."

Connor frowned. "But it's me wearing the dresses. Not… not the other people."

"I know, but some people just think differently. They think that all boys shouldn't wear girls' clothes." Cynthia explained, placing the vegetables to boil in the pot. "Do you want to help me make grilled cheese?"

"Yeah!" Connor exclaimed happily, dragging a stool over so he could reach the items on the counter.

Cynthia opened the fridge. "Smoked or Swiss?" she asked, a packet in either hand.

"Smoked!" Connor smiled. Cheese was one of his favorite foods.

"Zo, smoked cheese or Swiss?" Cynthia called over her shoulder.

"Smoked," Zoe replied immediately, from where she was still sprawled among her dolls.

"Swiss for me!" Cynthia commented as she placed three slices of cheese on a plate.

Connor helped to place the cheese between the slices of bread. "Swiss isn't as good because there's holes, so you actually get less cheese to eat," he suddenly pointed out. They both shared a laugh.

The sandwiches were in the oven and Connor had put away the stool when he randomly blurted out, "I like wearing dresses." Cynthia gave him a look that asked him to continue. "I, uh, I don't know. I just like them…" He paused. "Is it bad?"

She bent down so that they were at eye level. "No, sweetie, it's not," she reassured him. "Your daddy and I have… different views on this, but you should wear what makes you feel comfortable, okay?" She ruffled his hair affectionately, making him squirm. "Now why don't you help me set the table?"

 **please leave reviews cos ya girl is needy af :P**

 **im also on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking) come scream at me about musicals or star wars or random stuff**


	5. one branch then to another

**in which we have the apple orchard scene**

 **also, a huge shoutout to everyone who commented. i love you guys so much :D**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Saturdays were Connor and Zoe's favorite day of the week. It meant that they were going to visit Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard. They'd started going once a month last year, but they loved it so much that Cynthia and Larry decided to make it a weekly excursion.

"Zoe, hurry up!" Connor whined, repeatedly banging on the bathroom door.

"Wait!" Zoe called from the other side, her toothbrush still in her mouth.

"Hurry up, breakfast is ready and I want to go the orchard."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Zoe grumbled, spitting out her toothpaste into the sink and opening the bathroom door. "I do want to go too, you know."

Connor excitedly grabbed her hand and almost dragged her down the stairs in his eagerness. Cynthia was packing the picnic basket in the kitchen.

"What drinks do you want?" she asked as the children came in.

"Coke," Connor said, sliding into his chair and placing a sausage on his plate.

"Can we have something healthier?" Cynthia suggested.

Connor pouted slightly, but finally replied, "Apple juice?"

"Me too," Zoe piped up.

"We're going to the apple orchard, so that's appropriate, I guess," Larry joked, glancing up from the newspaper.

.

.

.

After they had washed and put away the breakfast dishes, the four of them piled into the SUV and Larry drove off. The drive was around forty minutes long; the children passed the time playing 'rock, paper, scissors', and then they played 'I Spy'.

"I spy something… white!" Zoe said.

"The clouds?" Connor asked.

"No, it's fluffy and soft."

"Clouds are fluffy and soft," Connor pointed out.

"Actually," Larry spoke up from the driver's seat, "clouds are made from water droplets, so they aren't fluffy and soft."

"I don't understand," Zoe mumbled.

"What's water droplets?" Connor asked.

Cynthia rolled her eyes at Larry, "You'll learn more about it in school next time," she told the kids.

"Can we go back to the game?" Zoe whined. Cynthia nodded back.

"I don't know, is it…" Connor looked outside the window.

"I'll give you a clue, it's in the car."

"Oh, your hat!"

"My hat isn't fluffy," Zoe argued.

"Well, it's soft," Connor muttered. "I don't know."

"Do you want the answer?" she asked triumphantly.

"Okay."

She pulled out her stuffed toy sheep. "Ta-da!"

"You had it between you and the door, I couldn't see it," Connor pointed out.

"No, it was just sitting there, I wasn't hiding it."

"Yes, you did. That's cheating."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you—"

"Enough," snapped Larry. "It's just a game."

"But Dad," Connor protested, "she hid the—"

Zoe huffed indignantly. "Did not!"

"Yes, you—"

"Connor, I said that's enough, stop arguing with your sister."

"But, Dad, I—"

"Connor, it's just a game, quit being such a sore loser. If you keep arguing I'm going to turn the car around and go home."

They fell into an awkward silence for the rest of the car trip. But as soon as they drove through the gates of the orchard, the kids cheered, running out of the car as soon as it stopped, completely forgetting the argument they had ten minutes ago.

The Murphys had a favorite spot in the large orchard, it was next to a lake with ducks. Neither Connor nor Zoe knew how to swim yet, but they loved wading in the lake, feeling the water lap at their ankles.

"Ooh, it's so cold," Zoe squealed as she dipped a finger in.

"It's so nice!" Connor exclaimed, taking off his shoes and giving the water a kick. Several ducks scattered in flight and a few droplets landed on Zoe. "Whoops."

The two of them waded for a while, and afterwards they decided to play a game of catch.

"Daddy, come play with us, it's more fun," Zoe begged.

"Okay," Larry grinned, getting up from the picnic blanket as the kids screamed and scampered away. In about half an hour, they returned to the blanket Cynthia had moved under a shady tree, the three of them sweaty and flushed but laughing.

"Can we get something to eat?" Connor asked, pulling his shirt off and wiping his face with it.

"You're hungry? Already?" Cynthia asked, setting aside her book. "It's barely noon."

"I was running around," Connor pointed out with a shrug.

"Okay, let's eat then." She opened the picnic basket, pulling out tuna sandwiches and drinks.

"Yay, tuna!" Zoe cheered, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a large bite. They ate their lunch in relative silence, save for a random comment here and there from the kids.

After finishing their meal, Cynthia handed Connor and Zoe a bag each with crusts of the bread she had cut off for the sandwiches. "Do you want to feed the ducks?"

"Yes!" They grabbed the bags and went back to the edge of the lake. Breaking off small pieces, they tossed them towards the ducks, and jumped in excitement when the birds waddled closer (which of course only ended up scaring them away again).

"Oh my goodness!" Zoe cooed, "Look Connor, ducklings!"

A mother duck had come up to them with six or seven little ducklings in tow. Connor tossed them several crumbs, and several of the ducklings eagerly came closer. Stuffing the rest of the bread into his pocket, he reached down and gently scooped one of them up in a swift motion. "Look, Zoe!" he half-squealed, but remembering just in time to keep his voice low so as not to frighten the little bird.

"It's so cute!" Zoe's eyes sparkled. Cynthia turned around to see what the fuss was about. "Mummy, look! Duckling! Connor caught a duckling!" Zoe exclaimed in excitement.

Both parents hurried over as Connor sat down on the grass, carefully cradling the duckling in his small hands. "Oh my goodness, how cute!" Cynthia said, taking out her camera to snap a picture.

"It's far too small to roast," Larry joked.

"Daddy!" Both kids looked at him in horror, Connor almost dropping the duckling in his fright.

Larry held up his hands. "I was just kidding."

"How insensitive." Cynthia chided him, although there was mirth in her voice. "Connor, I think you better let the duckling go before its mother gets worried."

Connor gave the duckling a little kiss on its head, and then set it down on the ground, wistfully watching it scramble off to join its siblings. "What'll the duck mommy do to me?" he asked, standing up.

"I don't know," Cynthia admitted. "But she's probably not very happy that you took her baby."

"Will she bite me?" Connor's eyes went wide.

"Ducks can bite?" Zoe asked. "I thought they have no teeth."

"They still have a mouth," Connor pointed out.

"Yes, they can bite," Larry said. Connor and Zoe gasped and stepped a little further away. "It doesn't really hurt," he quickly reassured them.

"They are very cute," Zoe murmured, as the ducklings splashed into the lake after their mother.

"Let's go climb the trees," Larry suggested.

"But I want to watch the ducks," Connor protested.

"You've been doing that for the past forty minutes, let's go."

Connor pouted. "I don't like to climb trees. It's too hard."

"That means you need to practice. Once you become better at it, you'll start to enjoy it."

"Come on, Con! Climb with me!" Zoe said, tugging at her brother's hand. Connor made a noise that sounded like a cross between a whine and a groan, but dragged his feet after them reluctantly.

"Come on Connor," Larry called over his shoulder. "And please don't scuff your shoes, you'll spoil them."

There was a cluster of smaller apple trees on one side of the lake, Larry picked one with several lower branches. "Who wants to go first?"

"Me!" Zoe chirped. She climbed the tree with ease, nearly like an agile little monkey. It wasn't too long before she as sitting on a sturdy branch about ten or eleven feet in the air, beaming proudly at them.

"Come on, sport, your turn." Larry patted Connor on the back.

Connor kicked at the ground. "Don't wanna," he mumbled.

"Come on," Larry coaxed. Connor ignored him. "Young man," Larry's tone was getting sterner. "I'm not going to say it again."

Connor waited a few seconds, as if testing Larry to see if he would really say it again, then he walked towards the tree, pulling himself up with his arms. He made it up two branches, then made the mistake of looking down.

"Don't look down," Larry said.

Connor knew he shouldn't, but he just kept glancing downwards. The ground already seemed too far away; he glanced up at Zoe. She was so high up. The thought of actually getting up that high made his stomach feel a little queasy. "Come on, climb higher," Larry encouraged. "You're barely off the ground, it's not that high."

He pulled himself up another branch.

"Come on Con!" Zoe cheered him on as she swung her legs, bouncing lightly on the branch.

He managed to pull himself up another breath, his breath hitching slightly. A gentle breeze began to blow, causing the branches to sway ever so slightly. Connor clung to the branch, his knuckles beginning to turn white. "I-I want to come down," he whimpered.

"Connor, you're barely off the ground," Larry sighed.

"I don't want to climb, I want to come down," Connor said, not even daring to look down anymore.

"Connor, if your little sister can do it, why can't you?" Larry was beginning to sound expaserated.

Zoe looked down. "Come on, Con. It's fun up here, I can see far away!"

He glanced up, sucking his breath in through his teeth. Shakily, he reached for another branch. But the ground was too far away, the fall was too far, he would probably die if he fell. But if Zoe could do it, why couldn't he? Why was he so scared of everything, even climbing trees? Why was Zoe so much better at it than he was? But Zoe was too far up, he didn't want—he couldn't climb that high.

But he couldn't go down. Larry would be disappointed with him, and he didn't want to disappoint his father. So he clung, conflicted, to the branch.

"Connor, man up, I know you can go higher."

Connor gritted his teeth, and dragged himself up one more branch. "Is this enough?" he called down, hoping against hope that Larry would say yes.

"You can go higher," Larry urged. "Look, Zoe can do it so well!"

Connor hated it when his father compared him to Zoe. It made him feel like he was never good enough, Zoe was always better. He was terrified, but also determined to show Larry that he could do it. He climbed a little higher, feeling a little sick at how high up he was.

"Can I please come down?" he begged, nearly on the verge of tears.

"Fine, fine, come down," Larry sounded irritated, but Connor was too relieved to really care. He scrambled down as quickly as he dared.

Cynthia came up to him, giving him a hug. "That was really good! You climbed higher than last time!" She high-fived him.

He returned it half-heartedly. "I don't like being high," he mumbled.

Larry stepped over just as Zoe clambered down the tree. "Connor, next time we come here, I want you to climb up to where Zoe was today." Connor nodded glumly.

Zoe ran over and Larry gave her a big hug. "I'm so proud of you, you climbed so well today!"

"Thanks, Daddy!" She grinned, hugging him back.

Connor stared blankly ahead. "You disappointed your father again," the voice in his head whispered. "Zoe will always be better than you."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't have to turn around to know it was his mother. "Honey, you did really well, I'm proud of you," she murmured.

But Connor knew that she was only saying that because she was his mother.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **if you leave a comment i will love you forever**  
 **also hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking where i scream about musicals and star wars**


	6. religious truants

**summary: in which connor and zoe skip out of sunday school**

 **(i didn't find any trigger warnings for this chapter, but if you do please let me know! :D)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The only bad thing about Saturday was that after that came Sunday. And Sunday meant church. And Connor really did not like going to church. It was boring, the songs were too slow, the Sunday school teacher talked too much, and he had to wear a suit.

He had been so excited when he got to wear his suit for the first time, because it made him look like Larry when he went to work. But it wasn't fair how he had to wear the same suit every week when Zoe got to wear so many different dresses. The only different thing he could wear was his tie.

Today, he had a red one.

He combed his hair neatly in the mirror, splashing some water onto it to make it look neater. That was something he had seen Larry do in the mornings. Larry had said he didn't need so much water, but when it was wetter it was more fun. A little bit trickled down the back of his neck, and he grabbed a towel to wipe it dry.

He went downstairs for breakfast, Cynthia had made bacon, eggs, and toast. Larry was making himself a coffee and Connor liked the smell even if he was still too young to drink it.

"Good morning, Daddy," Connor greeted as he got a class from the cupboard.

"Morning, son!" Larry said, looking Connor up and down. "Looking smart today, huh?"

Connor merely nodded, he didn't know why adults like to say that, it wasn't like you would look stupid, unless maybe you were wearing a clown costume. He helped himself to the carton of milk from the fridge, Larry helping him to pour it into the glass which he set down next to his plate. Larry sat down too, with his cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.

Connor had finished half of his omelet when Zoe came bounding down the stairs, followed by a less enthusiastic Cynthia. "Mummy curled my hair today!" Zoe exclaimed with a proud toss of her head.

"Burned my finger, too," Cynthia remarked wryly.

"You look super pretty, Zo-zo," Connor told her. She wore a sparkling pink dress with a matching bracelet, necklace, and hairclip.

"Wow! That's very pink!" Larry chuckled.

"I already wore green last week and white before," Zoe informed him seriously, although her mouth was full of toast. "So I'm wearing pink today."

"Zoe, please don't speak when you have food in your mouth," Cynthia gently reminded her.

Larry glanced at the clock. "Hurry up or we'll be late."

"I don't care," Connor said, slumping down in his seat and letting his fork clatter against the plate. "It's too boring anyway."

"Connor, I don't have time for this. Please eat your breakfast," Larry sighed as he cleared his plate into the kitchen sink. Connor grumbled a little but obliged.

In the car, Connor and Zoe decided to have a competition to see who could make the loudest or most disgusting fart noises, until Larry silenced them with a "that's disgusting, please stop it." And then they spent the rest of the trip laughing hysterically at themselves.

They finally reached church, Connor and Zoe dragging their feet behind their parents. Neither of them liked church. Everyone seemed so fake, too prim and proper. Connor squirmed uncomfortably in his stiff suit. He wandered towards one of the pews, just as the pastor's wife passed him.

"Good morning, Connor! How are you doing? I hope you had a blessed week!" Her smile was so wide that he wondered if her mouth would get tired from smiling so much.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Her smile stretched even wider before she swished away so quickly that he wasn't sure if she had actually heard his answer or if she was only asking to look polite.

Zoe soon slid onto the pew. The benches were polished smooth, and she and Connor loved seeing how far they could slide on them.

"I'm bored," Connor said, kicking the empty pew in front of them. He checked his watch. "We still have ten minutes before it starts."

Zoe sighed dramatically and flopped down on the pew, but quickly pulled herself up again before their parents—who were standing a few rows away, chatting—could notice. "I don't like Sunday school," she sighed.

"Do you want to not go?" Connor asked, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Huh?" she looked confused.

"Like when they say the kids can go Sunday school, we go out there," he pointed to the large double doors, "but we go somewhere else."

Zoe looked a little nervous, but eventually she nodded and agreed. "Okay."

"Yay," Connor grinned. They gave each a high-five.

Cynthia and Larry took their seats shortly before the service began, between Connor and Zoe. Cynthia sat next to Connor while Larry sat next to Zoe—the kids used to sit side by side until they talked too much one Sunday. They sang two hymns, and then the pastor did a reading from the book of Daniel. Connor liked this one, it was the story about the lions. Cynthia held the Bible on her lap and pointed out the words to him. Connor could recognize quite a few of them; she had said he would learn to read in kindergarten, but he didn't want to wait until then, so he had asked her to teach him. Whenever she read him stories, she would point each word out to him, and soon she often found him curled up with a book, reading out loud to himself.

Then there was something called announcements, where the pastor talked about things like people at church whom Connor didn't know, or something called 'ministry' which only happed in other countries far away, or 'politics' which was what important people like the president did. If it wasn't confusing, it was boring.

Connor absentmindedly reached over to grab his mom's left hand, playing with her wedding ring on her fourth finger. It was very pretty, and he liked the way it glittered in the light that streamed in through the windows. He used to think it was silver, but Cynthia had said that it was made of a type of gold called 'white gold', and the sparkly glass things were called 'diamonds'. He guessed it must be expensive, maybe it cost a million dollars! And then he had to stop playing with her ring because it was prayer time.

The pastor said a really long prayer where everybody had to close their eyes, and Connor was so bored that he almost fell asleep. After that super long prayer, the pastor said that the children could go to Sunday school. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Connor eagerly grabbed Zoe's hand and they headed out the doors with the other children. But while all the children went to their classes, the two of them slipped down a flight of stairs.

They wandered downstairs for a while, just enjoying the emptiness of the huge church building, and the giddy thrill of ditching a class for the first time. They walked around, exploring some of the rooms they had not seen before. Suddenly, they were startled by an old lady who was getting the refreshments ready.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, peering at them through her wire-rimmed glasses. "Shouldn't you be in Sunday school?"

Zoe froze. Connor thought quickly. "Um, I was going to, but I—I'm taking my sister to the bathroom but we can't find it."

The lady laughed. "That's so sweet." She pointed down the corridor. "The bathroom's that way."

"Thanks," he mumbled, pulling Zoe along. "Let's go." They headed down the corridor. "That was close," he muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot of the lady.

"Should we just go to Sunday school?" Zoe asked, getting concerned that they might get caught again.

"We can't go in so late," Connor said. "They'll ask where we went."

"Then what should we do?" she asked.

"Let's see if we can go the playground!" he suggested.

"Okay!"

There was a small playground at the back of the church. Usually packed with screaming, energetic children, it was now quiet and deserted. Connor preferred it this way. He sat on the swing set, pushing himself gently back and forth. Zoe slid down the slide a few times before joining him on the swings.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Ten fifty," he replied, checking the time on his watch.

"What time does Sunday School finish?"

"Eleven o'clock, I think."

"How many more minutes is that?"

Connor paused his swinging to count the minutes on his watch's hands. "Ten minutes."

Zoe nodded. "Can you push me? I want to go high."

"Okay," he obliged, hopping off the swing to give her a push.

"Higher!" she giggled. They played for a couple more minutes, and then went back into the main church building just before Sunday School ended. Shortly after the kids came out of their classrooms, the adult service concluded.

"Hi Mummy, hi Daddy!" Zoe waved as she spotted their parents in the crowd.

"Hi sweetie," Cynthia said as she and Larry made their way over. "How was Sunday school?"

"Boring," Connor lied, a cupcake in his hand and crumbs smeared around his mouth. He shot Zoe a wink, which she returned.

"Why was it boring?" Cynthia questioned.

"The teacher is boring," he shrugged, taking another bite of the cupcake before looking back up at her.

"Connor! Look at your face!" She exclaimed in exasperation, "You're such a messy eater!"

He gave her a cheeky giggle as she pulled a tissue from her bag to wipe his face clean, completely forgetting about the Sunday school issue.

.

.

.

Later that night, Connor and Zoe were talking together, lying side by side on her bed and just staring at the ceiling.

"What do you want to do when you're big?" Zoe asked.

"I want to have a dog," he replied.

"No, like for your job," she clarified.

"I don't know, but definitely not a pastor," he declared, sitting up.

"Why not?"

"Because they're super boring and no one listens to them." They both giggled, and Connor looked pleased at himself for thinking of that.

"I want to be an astronaut," Zoe said seriously, "Because I want to visit all the stars in my rocket."

"But there's a lot of stars, and you'll be very busy, because you'll need to fly from one star to another."

"It's okay," she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I like stars."

"I like stars too," he murmured. "But I also like animals. I want to work at a zoo, because I can see animals every day!"

"Oh! I want to work at A La Mode! Then I can eat ice-cream every day!" Zoe squealed.

"Oh yes! I want to work there, then I can work there with you!" Connor said excitedly. "We can try all the different flavors!"

The bedroom door creaked open. "Time for bed, kids," Cynthia called.

The two groaned loudly. "Well, goodnight," Connor said, giving Zoe a kiss on her cheek and heading out to his room next door.

"Goodnight, Con," she said, grabbing her pajamas and shutting the door he had left open.

"I love you," he shouted through the wall of his room. It made him sound funny, and she laughed.

"Love you!" she called back.

.

.

.

 **is it bad that i wrote this chapter at church...? oops**  
 **also i was going to write a halloween chapter but i dont celebrate it...so i dont really know what you do for it? except dressing up and trick-and-treating and pumpkins?**  
 **but yeah, tell me what you dressed up as!**

 **also, hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking**  
 **if you leave a comment i will love you 4ever**


	7. kindergarten

**summary: in which connor goes to kindergarten and zoe goes for dance**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

In August, Connor began kindergarten. On one hand, he was excited—he could learn how to read and write and spell! But at the same time, he felt incredibly nervous, he didn't know what would happen or what to expect and what if the children there didn't like him? Zoe was distraught, she couldn't imagine being away from Connor for so long! What would she do? She would be so bored at home. They were never apart.

Except when one of them got time out for squabbling.

On Connor's first day of kindergarten, his whole family dropped him off.

"There's so many children," Zoe said as they arrived.

"I know…" Connor mumbled nervously, gripping his bag a little too tightly. "I don't really wanna go anymore."

"Everyone says that on their first day," Larry assured him. "After your first day, you'll like it."

"I don't think so," he responded skeptically. "There's too many people."

"Connor, you're a big boy now! You'll be fine," Cynthia said. "I'm so proud of you!"

Larry reverse the car into a parking spot. But Connor made no move to get out. Larry got out of the car to open the door on Connor's side. "Come on, son, I'll walk you in."

"Don't wanna," he mumbled, shrinking further into his seat.

Larry gave him a hand. "It'll be fun, see? There's such a big playground."

"There's too many people."

"What's wrong with people? You're a big boy now, you should learn to deal with people!"

"Why can't Zoe go too?" Connor asked, changing the subject.

"Zoe is younger than you, she'll go next year."

"I want to go next year, then," he said stubbornly.

Larry sighed. "Come on, Connor, or you're going to be late.

"Don't want to go!"

Larry reached forward to grab Connor's hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. "Come, Connor. I'll walk you to your classroom."

"No!" he tried in vain to pull his hand away.

"Connor, please, it'll be lots of fun," Cynthia said.

"I don't want!" he yelled, beginning to kick the seat in front of him.

"Connor, stop, you're a big boy, you're not supposed to throw tantrums." Larry said, picking him up.

He howled and thrashed, "Let me go! I don't want to go in!"

"Connor, calm down and listen to me," Larry said through gritted teeth as Connor gave him a painful kick near the knee. His patience was beginning to wear thin, but he held Connor tightly against him until the boy had calmed down significantly. "Connor, it's not that bad, it's going to be so fun—you'll make lots of friends, play games, learn how to read…"

"Will they really teach me how to read lots of books there?" Connor sniffled.

"Yes, you'll read lots of books," Larry smiled. "You'll like that, right?"

Connor nodded, but when he glanced back at the building he ducked his head into Larry's side. "There's so many people…" he mumbled, wiping his tears on Larry's clean tie.

Larry tried not to cringe. "Well… Connor, a lot of the people here are parents, and the parents are going to leave. We'll be leaving too, there's just going to be children in there. And the teachers will take care of you," he quickly added.

"I want Zoe to go, too."

"Zoe is too young, she'll go next year, okay?" Larry handed Connor his Thomas the Tank backpack. "I need to get to work soon, and you need to go your class. Come, I'll walk you in." Connor sniffled, looking conflicted but less reluctant. "You can learn to read or learn a new game or draw, and you can come home and tell me all about it, okay?"

"Okay…" Connor finally gave in, and followed Larry into the classroom, Cynthia beaming in pride from the car and Zoe excitedly waving through the window at her brother.

In another five minutes, Larry returned to the car. "Well, that was… something," he declared, sliding into the driver's seat and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Is Mummy crying?" Zoe asked as Cynthia sniffled a little.

"No, no, I—" she quickly wiped at the corner of her eye. "I'm not, it—it's just that my baby boy's all grown up!"

"Am I grown up too?" Zoe asked.

Cynthia chuckled. "No, you need to be my baby for a while more."

"Aww, okay," Zoe said, leaning back in her seat and cuddling her stuffed toy.

.

.

.

Later that evening, they were gathered around the dinner table, as Cynthia set out a roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

"How was your first day of kindergarten, Connor?" she asked, after Larry said a prayer and they began to eat.

"It was okay. A lot of the children were very noisy and some of them kept crying. But I didn't really cry." He looked proud of himself.

"That's great, Connor!" Cynthia said encouragingly.

"Yeah, and we also got to learn some alphabets. I can write them."

"Do you want to show me after dinner?" She asked. Connor nodded excitedly, unable to respond as his mouth was full of mashed potatoes.

"I want for dance class today!" Zoe excitedly informed him, not wanting to be left out.

"When?" he asked, confused.

"Today!" she repeated.

"This afternoon, honey, before we picked you up," Cynthia explained.

Connor glared at Larry. "You said Zoe was too young to go to class," he accused.

"I said she was too young to go to kindergarten," he corrected, "Not a class. She didn't go to kindergarten."

"Why can she go dance and I have to go to kindergarten?"

"So that she doesn't get lonely when you are—" Cynthia began.

"So I can become a ballerina!" Zoe exclaimed gleefully.

"Well, if I don't go to kindergarten, she won't be lonely," he argued.

"But honey, I thought you said that you liked kindergarten," Cynthia looked a little disappointed.

"I prefer to be home with Zoe…" he murmured, pushing a piece of chicken around the plate with his fork.

"You're home with her now," Larry pointed out.

"But the time is… smaller," Connor tried to explain. "We don't get to play together as much. And kindergarten is not as much fun."

"Dance is very fun," Zoe interrupted. "I get to be a ballerina!"

"Later can you show me?" he asked.

"Yup!"

After dinner was over, Connor sat on the floor, a blue marker in his right hand. "See—that's an 'A', my teacher said it's like a witch's hat."

"What's your teacher's name?" Zoe asked. "My ballet teacher is Mrs. Shapiro."

"Mine is Miss Anna," Connor replied, as he shakily wrote out another letter. "See? That one is a 'B'."

"That's really good, Connor!" Cynthia said, standing behind them.

"I can write a 'C' too!" He grinned, proceeding to do so.

"Actually," Cynthia gently said, "'C' goes the other way, yours is a mirror-image," she took the marker from him and demonstrated how to write it correctly.

"What's mirror image?" he frowned.

"It's like backwards," she smiled, handing the marker back to him.

Zoe took a marker from a drawer on the shelf. "Can I try now?"

"Okay," said Connor. "You can try 'A' first, because that's alphabet number one." Zoe gripped the marker tightly in her chubby hands, doing a relatively good copy of Connor's 'A'. "Yay! That's very good!" He cheered for her.

"Connor, can you be my teacher?"

He nodded. "Okay." She copied the 'B' down, but Connor, who was more easily distracted, suddenly asked, "Can you teach me to dance now?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'll do that later. I want to write letters first."

"Okay, write 'C' now," he said, pointing to the letter on the paper. "I think it's the easiest. And then after 'C', there is 'D', which is alphabet number four."

Zoe hummed the start of the alphabet song under her breath. "What about 'E'?"

"Oh, we haven't learned it yet. I think my teacher said we'll learn it tomorrow."

When she was done, Zoe ran into the kitchen, holding the paper in her hands, and Connor right behind her. "See, Mummy!" Connor taught me alphabet!"

Cynthia looked up, her hands dripping soap from washing the dishes. "Wow! That's really good, Zoe. And great job, Connor! You're a good big brother."

He grinned proudly.

"Now I'm going to teach him how to dance!" Zoe declared happily.

Cynthia laughed. "Wow, Zoe, that's awesome!"

"Come on, Con," Zoe half-dragged him upstairs to the playroom in her eagerness. She pushed their building blocks and LEGOs out of the way to clear some space on the floor.

"Wait, do you want to see my ballerina clothes?" she asked.

"Yup!"

She scrambled down the flight of stairs so quickly she almost tripped, ran into her bedroom, and pulled out her leotard, shoes, and tights from her dance bag. She carried them upstairs to show Connor, who was waiting patiently in the playroom. "See, this is my shirt, pants, and shoes."

"Where's the poofy skirt thing?" he asked, referring to the tutus he had once seen on television.

"We don't get it yet," Zoe said.

"Why not?"

"I think we need to become better ballerinas first," she replied thoughtfully. "I don't know. I didn't ask. That's just what they gave us."

"Okay, so can I have my class?" he whined impatiently as Zoe went to place the leotard and tights into the laundry basket. "Yeah, okay." They went back to the playroom. "Sit down," she ordered. He sat down and she took her place next to him. "Touch your toes."

He put a hand on his toes. "Like that?"

She giggled slightly. "No, you need to make your legs straight." She straightened her legs and leaned forward to touch her pointed toes.

Connor tried to do it, but his hands only reached his ankles. "I can't touch."

"You need to move forward more," Zoe furrowed her eyebrows, trying to figure out how to explain. In the end, she got up to push Connor from the back.

"Ow! Stop! That hurts!" Connor yelled.

"Sorry," she squeaked, quickly stepping back. "Just… try it by yourself."

He tried again. "I still can't."

"One of the girls in my class can't do it either, but my teacher told her to practice every day." She remembered.

"Dance is so hard," he muttered.

"It's not," Zoe insisted, reaching forward to touch her toes again. "It's super fun."

"Well, it's hard for me."

"Bedtime, kids," Larry called from downstairs.

"Okay," they shouted back from the playroom.

"Goodnight, Zoe," Connor said.

"Goodnight, Con," she said, then added, "Oh! And remember to practice every day?"

He chuckled. "Okay, I promise."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **please leave a comment if you liked this!**  
 **i need validation yo**

 **also im sick :(( so hmu on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking) and chat with me to take my mind off this goddamn sore throat (cries)**


	8. dancing through life

**thank you to everyone who commented on and liked the last chapter! i love you all! 3**

 **also, i didn't find any trigger warnings for this chapter, but if there are any please let me know!**

 **summary: in which we have (drumroll please) BALLET CONNOR!**

 **.**

.

.

"What did you learn in kindergarten today, sweetie?" Cynthia asked from the driver's seat of the car.

"I learned to spell my name!" Connor exclaimed gleefully.

"Can you do that for me?"

"C-O-N-N-N-O-R!"

"Two 'N's, Connor," she corrected. "Not three."

"Oh." He looked crestfallen at having gotten it wrong.

"But that was very good!" She quickly reassured him with a smile.

"Yay, Con!" Zoe gave him a high-five.

Cynthia pulled into the parking lot of the dance school. "We're here, kids."

"How long is it?" Connor asked, opening the car door and stepping out.

"An hour," Cynthia replied, helping Zoe to carry her dance bag into the building. "I'm going to help Zoe get her shoes on, just wait a while."

"Can I go explore?"

She nodded, fishing Zoe's shoes out of the bag. He wandered down the corridor. Some of the doors were closed, but one of them was slightly ajar. He peeked in, there were girls dressed in the pink shirts and white pants like Zoe had, and they were doing jumps and spinning. Entranced, he couldn't help but stare, even if he knew that his parents had said that staring was rude. He didn't know how they could spin so many times without falling down. Once, he had had a competition with Zoe to see who could spin for the longest time, and they had gotten so dizzy they crashed into each other, knocked their heads, and cried.

Maybe those people in the room just had special shoes.

One person—he guessed it was the teacher—caught him staring and came over. Embarrassed, he tried to slip away, but then she smiled at him so he probably wasn't in trouble.

"Do you like to dance?" she asked. "You seemed very interested in the advanced classes." Her tone was friendly and Connor decided that she liked her.

"I don't dance," he explained. "But Zoe is taking classes at this time so I have to come after I finish my kindergarten. I'm big now, so I have to go to kindergarten."

"Is Zoe your sister?" He nodded. "Well… I don't think she's in this class," she remarked, glancing over her shoulder at the girls who were now stretching at the barre.

"No," he shook his head. "She's not in this class. She's three—and a half," he added hastily. He knew that the half was very important to her. "My mom's helping her to wear her shoes." His eyes wandered back to the dancers. "How do they spin so many times?"

"That move is called a pirouette, and they do that with lots of practice." She paused, then asked. "Would you like to learn to dance?"

He frowned. "I'm a boy."

"Boys can dance, too!"

"Really?" He scanned the room. "There's no boys."

"They are in another class," she assured him. "There aren't as many boys, so that makes them very special!" She winked at him, and he giggled.

"I'll ask Mummy," he said, running down the corridor to where Cynthia sat. "Mummy, the lady said I can dance, too! Can I? Can I?"

"May, Connor," Cynthia correct, laughing at his excitement.

"May I, Mummy? Please?" he begged.

"Well…"

"Please, Mummy, I really really really really want to. I promise I'll practice super hard."

Cynthia thought for a moment, then agreed. "Alright, Connor. I'll sign you up for a term, but you must finish it even if you don't like it, okay? You know I don't like it when people give up halfway."

"Yay! Thank you so much, Mummy!" Connor jumped up and down with glee.

Soon, Connor had changed into a white shirt, black pants, and white shoes, and the teacher who he had met just now—he had learnt that her name was Miss Annie—ushered him into the beginner's class. "Mrs. Shapiro, a new student for you," she said as she led him in.

The teacher—who must have been Mrs. Shapiro since she was the only other adult in the room—looked up and her face brightened. "Oh! A boy! How absolutely lovely, we have a boy in our class now, girls!" He grinned. She seemed so nice and he was so excited.

One girl raised her hand. "Mrs. Shapiro, I thought only girls can dance."

Connor tried not to scoff. Mrs. Shapiro simply smiled again and said, "No, Sally, boys can be dancers too—there were actually many famous ballet dancers who were men."

Many of the girls looked surprised, their mouths in an 'O' shape as they nodded. Connor couldn't help but wonder if he could be a famous ballet dancer guy too!

Mrs. Shapiro told them to line up beside the barre and Connor went to stand behind Zoe.

"Why are you here?" she asked out of curiosity.

"I want to dance, too," he replied.

"Mummy said yes?" she looked surprised. He nodded.

"Zoe, focus please!" Mrs. Shapiro called. She came around to help Connor, since he was slightly behind the other girls. She also used a lot of fancy words, which she said it was a language called French, but she explained everything very clearly.

Connor couldn't wipe the smile off his face as the music began, and they all did the same moves and exercises together. Even if he was the only boy, he didn't care. He wanted to do this forever. He almost cried when Mrs. Shapiro said that the class was over and they could go home. He lingered in the room for a short while longer as the others gathered their bags to leave.

"Did you enjoy the class?" Mrs. Shapiro asked.

"Yes! I liked it a lot," he responded eagerly.

She beamed at him. "That's great, Connor. You danced so well for a beginner."

He blushed a little. "Thanks, Mrs. Shapiro!"

"Connor, hurry up, let's go," Zoe called, her bag already packed and slung over her shoulder. He gathered up his things, gave Mrs. Shapiro a quick wave, and scampered out the door to meet Cynthia.

"Did you enjoy the class?" she asked, fishing the car keys out of her purse.

"Yes! It was so awesome!" Connor exclaimed, bouncing up and down, his energy apparently not drained yet.

"That's great! I'm glad you liked it," she led them out of the building. "Let's go home, I need to prepare dinner."

"What are we eating?" Zoe asked.

"Let's get McDonald's," Connor suggested.

Cynthia laughed. "Nope."

"Aww…" the two of them groaned dramatically. "Why not?"

"Watch your tone," Cynthia teased. "If you complain, I'm going to cook Brussel sprouts!"

"Eww!" they screamed. "Yucky!"

.

.

.

About half an hour later, they had reached home, and the children were helping to set the table when Larry came back from work.

"Daddy's home!" Zoe called as she heard the door to their attached garage open then close, and she and Connor ran over to give Larry a hug.

"How was kindergarten today, Connor?" Larry asked as he set his briefcase down.

"I learned to spell my name!"

"Wow! That's good," Larry said, ruffling Connor's hair before going upstairs to change out of his suit.

"Why didn't you tell Daddy about dance class?" Zoe asked in a low voice.

"I…I don't think he'll be happy. He'll probably say it's for girls, or something." A sad look came over Connor's face.

"What if he finds out?"

"I dunno," he mumbled. "Maybe Mummy will explain it to him. Or Mrs. Shapiro. She said that there are boys that dance, too."

She nodded slowly. "So I shouldn't tell Daddy?"

"Yeah. Please?"

"Okay."

"Thanks, Zo," he smiled gratefully.

"Kids, can you help me set the dishes?" Cynthia called from the kitchen. Zoe helped to set out the plates and bowls, while Connor grabbed the large bowl of salad.

"I don't like salad," he declared, carrying it out of the kitchen and placing it in the middle of the table. "It's gross."

"It's good for you," Cynthia chided as she set down a steaming pot of French onion soup next to the vegetables.

"I only like apple salad," Zoe said, picking out a crouton from the salad.

"Yeah, the Waldo salad," Connor agreed, also digging through the dish.

"Waldorf salad," Cynthia corrected with a chuckle. The children nearly tipped the salad bowl over in their frantic search for the croutons. She slapped their hands away. "Stop that, or you won't get any for dinner."

"Salad?" Connor's face lit up in a mischievous smirk.

"No, silly, croutons."

.

.

.

 **pls comment cuz it's almost thanksgiving break and my plan is to aggressively Write More Fic over said break**

 **each comment gives me more Motivation :DD**

 **also hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking if you ever want to chat**


	9. sundays at the zoo

**summary: in which the murphys go to the zoo**

 **(this is mostly fluff but i hope you still enjoy it)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

On the last Sunday of every month, the Murphys took a trip to the zoo. It was around an hour's drive away, and the children were bursting with excitement the whole way there.

"Where shall we go to first?" Larry asked as they bent over a map of the zoo.

"Otters!" Connor suggested.

"That's further down the trail, how about the flamingoes?"

"No, they're boring, they just stand on one foot all the time." Zoe said.

"Yeah, and they are too pink!" Connor added.

"What about the monkeys?" Larry said.

They agreed, and headed off. Five minutes later, they spotted the monkeys swinging around in the enclosure.

"Look that monkey, he's eating fruit!" Connor pointed to one seated amidst the leaves of a tall tree.

"He's so cute!" Zoe squealed.

"There's another one that's running up the tree," Connor was obviously impressed.

Larry playfully nudged his son. "Do you think you could try to climb a tree like that?"

Connor cheekily replied, "No, because I'm not a monkey!"

"After this, can we go see the lions, the elephants, the tigers, and, and the—"

"Wow, breathe, Zoe! Are you planning our whole trip out already?" Cynthia remarked jokingly, amused at her daughter's exuberance.

"I want to go to the petting zoo, too," Connor added.

Larry nodded. "Yes, we can definitely do that."

A monkey put his face up against the glass.

"Look!" Connor pointed, laughing. He pulled a funny face at it. Zoe copied him. The monkey stared at them for a moment, scratched itself, and scampered away. They giggled.

At around noon, they stopped at one of the cafes for lunch.

"I'm hungry," Connor whined.

Zoe sank into a chair as Larry went to order food. "My legs are wobbly."

"That's because you've been doing a lot of walking," Cynthia commented. She pulled their water bottles out of Larry's backpack, which was sitting on the chair next to her. "Drink some water."

Connor took a gulp from his bottle. "Mummy, I'm hungry," he repeated.

"I know," Cynthia said, running her hand to smooth out his sweaty, messy hair. "Daddy's gone to order the food."

"Daddy's got the food!" Zoe exclaimed, clapping her hands happily as Larry returned to the table, setting down a tray with four burger and fries.

"Yummy!" Connor's face lit up, and he grabbed a burger and unwrapped it hungrily.

"After this, can we—" Zoe started, her mouth stuffed with fries.

"Zoe, please don't speak with your mouth full. I can't understand you." Cynthia said, gently yet firmly.

Zoe swallowed her food before repeating, "After this, can we go the petting zoo?"

"Yes, Zoe, I promise we won't forget that," Cynthia assured her.

"Can I get a soda?" Connor asked, shoveling several fries into his mouth.

"Me too?" Zoe begged.

Larry slide a few dollar bills to Connor. "Take Zoe with you and let her pick her drink."

"Thanks, Daddy!" he grinned, stuffing the bills into his pocket. Zoe grabbed his hand and they went to get their drinks. In a few more minutes, they came back, he with a can of Coke and she with a can of Sprite.

"When you finish your meal, go to the restroom and then I'll put more sunblock on you, okay?" Cynthia said, rubbing some sunblock on her arms.

"Sunblock smells weird," Zoe commented, wrinkling her nose.

Connor took a sip of his coke. "No, it doesn't. It smells like banana."

"No, it's weird."

"You're so weird."

"Am not!"

"Kids," Larry sighed, "You really don't have to argue about such small issues, alright?"

.

.

.

"Look at this lamb!" Connor exclaimed. "It's kissing me!" The animal nuzzled his face affectionately. "It tickles!" he shrieked.

"Hold still! Let me take a photo!" Cynthia said, grabbing the camera slung around her neck.

"Hurry up! It's so ticklish!" Connor was laughing so hard that a gentle nudge from the lamb almost made him lose his balance.

The camera clicked. "Okay! I got it!" Cynthia said, laughing as well.

Connor took a step back from the lamb to catch his breath. "He's so cute." Then he stepped forward again and gave the lamb a big hug.

"I'm going to take some pictures of Zoe," Cynthia said, leaving Connor sitting against the fence of the enclosure, stroking the baby animal.

Zoe was looking at the baby rabbits. "Mummy, can we have a pet?" she asked as Cynthia approached.

"Why do you want a pet?"

"Because they're so cute!" Zoe exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. One of the rabbits pressed its nose against the bars of the cage to nibble at her finger. "See?"

"Zoe, come here," Larry called. "There are some really cute puppies here."

"Ooh! Puppies!" Zoe squealed, forgetting about the bunnies and running over to her dad. "Aww they are so cute!"

There were several puppies of various breeds lying several large cages. "Oh, Mummy, can we get a puppy?"

Cynthia considered it for a while. "Well… we'll have to see, they are a lot of work. And I'm already very busy with you and Connor." She chuckled.

"Have you had a dog before?"

"I did," Larry said, "A Rottweiler. He was my dad's guard dog."

"Did he bite?"

Larry shook his head. "No, he looked scary, but he was just a big teddy bear."

Zoe giggled at the imagery. "What about Mummy? Did she have a dog, too?"

"I didn't have one, but my neighbors did, and I played with her a lot."

"I want a dog, and Connor wants one, too. We should get one." Zoe said seriously. "Can we?"

"Speaking of Connor," Larry interrupted. "Where is he?"

"Shit," Cynthia swore. "Shit. I think I left him outside at the petting zoo with the goats."

She frantically rushed out, calling, "Connor! Connor, where are you?" Larry followed behind, Zoe in tow. There was a moment of pure panic as Cynthia hurried over to where she remembered leaving Connor, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief when she saw him cuddling with the lamb on his lap, feeding it from a bottle of milk and talking to it.

"Connor!"

He jumped at her shrill tone. "Mummy?"

"Connor, don't you ever scare me like that again. I thought—I thought you were lost!"

Connor scrunched his brows up in confusion. "But I wasn't lost. I was just sitting here and waiting for you."

"Why didn't you answer me? I was calling for you."

"I didn't hear you."

The lamb had returned to his side, and was making soft noises in a bid to ask for the bottle of milk he had set down.

"Where did you get that from?" Larry asked, gesturing to the bottle.

"One of the zookeepers gave it to me," Connor said matter-of-factly. "He said I'm very good with the animals." He picked the lamb up to settle it back on his lap.

"I want to feed it too," Zoe stated. He handed her the bottle and she fed the lamb as he held it on his lap. Cynthia couldn't help but snap half a dozen photos of the tender moment.

"Let's go look at the other animals," Larry suggested when the milk was gone.

"Okay, let's go see the seals!" Zoe exclaimed.

"And the snakes!" Connor added in excitement, standing up and giving the lamb a goodbye kiss.

"No!" Zoe gasped. "Snakes are too scary!"

"They're not!"

"How about this," Cynthia stepped in, "We'll go see the seals first, then the snakes. How does that sound?" The children nodded. "Okay then, let's go. It's getting late."

"Yay! Let's go!" Connor cried, grabbing Zoe's hand and skipping towards the next enclosure.

.

.

.

 **thank you to everyone who commented last chapter! i hope you like this one :)**  
 **what are your favorite animals? mine are dogs, horses, ducks, and orcas haha. and i Live for petting zoos**  
 **(why does this make me sound like a 3 year old)**

 **please leave a comment if you liked this! and feel free to hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking**  
 **i promise i don't bite**


	10. i'm not that boy

**summary: larry finds out about dance and connor goes to a baseball game**

 **told ya there was going to be some angst... :^)** **chapter title adapted from 'i'm not that girl' from wicked** **tw: toxic masculinity, homophobia**  
 **(tell me if anything else needs to be tagged!)**

"Connor, would you like to go to a baseball game with me next week?" Larry asked one Saturday afternoon.

Connor looked up from his jigsaw puzzle. "Okay."

"When is it?" Cynthia asked. "If it's a weekday I'll give the kindergarten a call and he can get a day off."

"Next Friday. I'll just need to pick him up about half an hour early, so he still can go in the morning."

Connor froze. "But, but, Friday…" he stammered. "Mum, I—I have class."

"It's okay, Connor," Cynthia quickly cut in, noticing his panicked expression. "I'll call Mrs. Shapiro and let her know, alright?"

"It's alright to miss a bit of kindergarten sometimes," Larry assured him.

"It's not that…" Connor mumbled, ducking his head and returning back to the puzzle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he pretended to dig through the box looking for the puzzle piece he needed, realizing he had said the wrong thing. Larry glanced at Cynthia, confused.

"Uh, Connor," she started hesitantly. "Do you…" She trailed off but Connor knew what she meant. He knew that he couldn't keep it as a secret from Larry forever, and it was probably better sooner than later.

"Um… I have—I have dance on Friday," he finally said, his voice small.

"What?" Larry asked, leaning forward. "You gotta speak up, bud. I didn't catch it."

Connor shrank back a little but he didn't reply. Instead, he looked towards Cynthia pleadingly.

"He has dance on Friday," she repeated, her voice firm.

Larry blinked in surprise. "Wait, what's this? Why? I mean, why didn't I know about this?"

"He's only been going with Zoe for about a month, I signed him up for just a term."

"Why dance?" He demanded. "Why couldn't you sign up him for sports or… or something more suitable for boys?"

"Connor likes it! Just let him have fun!" Cynthia turned back towards Connor, who had his hands clapped over his ears, trying to block out the sound of his parents arguing. "Can we discuss this later?" she snapped at Larry.

"Fine." He stalked out of the room.

Larry was silent for most of dinner, and after the children had gone upstairs to bed, he confronted Cynthia again in the living room.

"Cynthia, what is this about Connor going to dance? Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "He didn't want you to know… with how you always react about all these 'boyish' and 'manly' things that you want him to do."

"Oh, so it's about me now, is it?"

"No, did I say that?"

He cut her off. "So you signed him up for a class without letting me know?"

"No, he said that he would tell you when he was ready."

"And you let him?"

"I didn't want to force him to do something that he found uncomfortable!"

"So you let him keep secrets from me? You kept secrets from me?"

"It's not like that! Jesus, you need to calm down and stop being so ridiculously paranoid," Cynthia bit back irritably.

"Oh, really? Then what is it like?"

She groaned, pressing a hand against her forehead in exasperation. "See, your reaction is exactly why he's reluctant to tell you things."

"Well, if it were something normal like baseball or some sporty activity, I wouldn't mind!"

"Are you saying that Connor is not normal?"

"No! I'm asking you why can't you sign him up for something that boys would do? Not girls!"

"Let him dance if he wants to! And I don't have time to ferry him to one activity and Zoe to another. Besides, I only signed him up for one term. He's just trying it out, let the siblings do something fun together."

"And what if he likes it?"

"Then let him dance!" she seethed. "What's wrong with that?"

"Cynthia, all those boys who dance, haven't you seen them? They're all either sissy or gay!"

"Larry!" she gasped, but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by a sniffle from the top of the stairs. Both turned to see Connor standing there, clad in his favorite blue pajamas that were still a little too big for him, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

"Shit," Cynthia muttered under her breath, shooting one last glare at her husband before rushing up the stairs to give him a hug. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I… I heard you and Daddy arguing, so I came out…" his bottom lip wobbled slightly. "Is Daddy angry at me?"

"No one's angry at you, baby," she said quietly, scooping him up in her arms to carry him back to his room.

"He was shouting…" he pointed out sadly. "Was he angry at you? It was because of dance right? If he's angry at you, I—I can stop dance."

Cynthia felt tears welling up in her own eyes. She placed a finger over his lips to silence him. "No, Connor. Don't think about that. If you want to dance, I'll make sure you get to, alright?"

"But what if Daddy is angry…" he murmured.

"I'll talk to him, sweetie. He'll… he'll understand."

He nodded. "Thanks, Mummy."

"Goodnight, Con," she planted a kiss on his forehead and tucked him in.

"Goodnight," he yawned sleepily.

She stepped out of his room, quietly closing the door behind her. Larry had retreated to the basement, most likely to bury himself in his work again, she thought bitterly. She retired to the master bedroom.

They didn't speak to each other the rest of the night, and Larry left early for work the next morning without saying anything.

.

.

.

"What's gay, mom?" Connor asked over breakfast.

"What makes you ask that, Connor?" Cynthia frowned, spreading some butter on her toast.

"Daddy said… boys who dance ballet are either sisters or gay."

Cynthia's heart sank a little, wishing her son had never walked in on the argument. But before she could say anything, Zoe interrupted her, "Why are they sisters?"

"What?" Cynthia asked in confusion.

"Daddy said boys who dance ballet are either sisters or gay," Connor clarified.

Cynthia couldn't help but chuckle at the mistake. "Don't mind what he said, alright? He was just… upset."

"But what's gay?" Connor insisted.

"Well," she said finally, trying to find the correct words. "You know how a man and a woman fall in love, and sometimes they get married afterwards?" Connor nodded, and so did Zoe. "It's like that," Cynthia continued slowly. "But sometimes two men fall in love, or two women."

"Oh! Like two husbands and two wives?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, exactly," Cynthia brightened.

"Is that bad?" Connor asked.

"No, Con, it's not," Cynthia said firmly. "Do you remember what I said to you when you asked if you could wear a princess dress?"

He nodded proudly. "Yup! I remembered!"

"It's like that. Some people will think it's wrong. But remember, just like you should do what you love, or whatever makes you happy, you should also love whoever makes you happy, okay? And don't let anyone tell you who to love or what to love, because you get to choose."

He frowned as he took it in. "But how do I know?"

She smiled at him, reaching over the table to ruffle his hair. "You will know. Your heart will tell you."

.

.

.

Connor was starting to wish that he had stayed at home or gone for dance class. The stadium was too loud, too big, and there were too many people crowding around. He never liked places with too many people, and the fact that he was sitting by all by himself while Larry had gone to buy some snacks made him a little nervous. He fidgeted in his seat, tugging at the sports jersey that Larry had gotten for him with his name across the back. It was a little weird, like wearing a nametag on your shirt, but Larry said that was what people who played sports did. The weather that day was relatively cool, but the amount of people everywhere caused him to feel the air was too warm and suffocating.

"I got us some things to eat!" Larry said, returning to the seat next to him with two hot dogs and a bag of chips. Connor nodded and took of the hot dogs, peeling back the paper and taking a bite. "Are you excited?" Larry continued, referring to the game.

Connor nodded again, licking some ketchup off his finger. "When will it start?"

"Soon," Larry assured him. "See? The players are getting into position on the diamond."

The game began, and Connor found it rather enjoyable. Larry had explained a few of the rules beforehand, but Connor still wasn't too sure what was going on most of the time. He just liked to watch the players hit the ball and run back and forth. Also, he didn't understand why everyone watching had to shout and scream when a team hit something called a home run. Nor did he understand why it was called a home run, because none of the players ran home. There was a blonde lady sitting two rows behind them who was especially shrill when everyone cheered. No one else seemed to mind, but her voice made him want to put his hands over his ears to block out the noise.

Around halfway through the game, however, he had finished his hot dog and the chips, and the game was getting rather repetitive and far too long. The stadium was cramped and he was starting to feel a little sleepy in his seat, and then he remembered that it must be around the time for his afternoon nap if he were home.

But just as mind was starting to wander, the crowd leapt to its feet, roaring with delight at another home run and startling him.

"Did you enjoy the game?" Larry asked in the car on the way home.

"Yeah, quite," Connor decided, sipping a Slushie Larry had gotten him after the game.

"It was really close," Larry murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular. He was obviously delighted at the result of the game—his team having won. Connor was happy too, since he guessed that Larry's team was his team, too.

"Do you want to play baseball?" Larry continued.

Connor thought about it. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to run around after a ball, all sweaty and muddy and gross. At the same time, it looked quite fun. "I don't know."

"You can join Little League," Larry said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

"What's Little League?"

"It's like baseball, but for little boys."

Connor took another sip of his Slushie, and he was pretty sure his tongue must be at least slightly blue by now.

Larry didn't seem to notice his silence. "Would you ever want to be a baseball player? Like the ones you saw today?"

"I don't think so," Connor replied. He wanted to be a ballet dancer, not a baseball player, but of course he didn't say that out loud. Because then Larry would become angry again.

Larry looked a little disappointed. "Do you know how many boys would love to be one for a living? You should really try baseball, I think you'll be great at it."

Connor stared straight ahead at the road. The condensation from the Slushie was dripping onto his pants. "But I don't want to," he quietly said.

 **i think this is my longest chapter yet woot**  
 **also, i have literally zero experience with baseball and i've never watched a game of it so...i probably got a lot of it wrong, sorry about that!** **please leave a comment and tell me what you think! or leave a prompt and i'll try to add it in a future chapter if it fits :)**  
 **i appreciate constructive criticism and ways to improve**  
 **you can also find me on tumblr thewickedverkaiking**


	11. winter wonderland

**summary: in which the murphys go skiing with the harrises**

 **if there are any trigger warnings please let me know!**

.

 **.**

.

The first snowfall came in early December, and Connor and Zoe awoke to their backyard covered in a thin, white blanket. They screamed in delight, rushing down the stairs and managing to make it out the backyard door before Cynthia caught them and dragged both of them back into the house, scolding them for not wearing their jackets and still being in their pajamas.

"You two are going to finish your breakfast first, before you get to go out and play," she insisted, shooing them upstairs to get dressed.

They rushed through breakfast, stuffing their face with pancakes so quickly that Cynthia later declared it a miracle that neither of them had choked.

"Can we go and play now?" they begged as soon as they had cleared their plates.

She helped them into their coats. "Yes, you may," she agreed, for they looked like they would explode if they were in the house for another minute.

Shrieking with joy, they dashed out, stomping and running about. There was still some light snow falling, and they stuck their tongues out to taste it.

"So cold!" Zoe squealed.

"So wet!" Connor laughed gleefully.

"Mummy, come build a snowman with us!" Zoe pleaded.

Cynthia pulled on her jacket, glancing at the amount of snow on the ground. "Sorry, kids, there's not enough snow yet." Their faces fell, and she quickly suggested, "What about snowballs?"

They brightened. "Okay! Good idea!"

She showed them how to pack the snow into a ball, and they tossed snowballs at each other for nearly an hour, breathless from laughter and their cheeks reddened from the cold.

"That was so fun! I love snow!" Zoe cheered, rolling on the ground in delight and kicking the powdery snow everywhere.

Connor tossed a snowball at her, hitting her in the face. She glared, throwing another back but missing. "You can't hit me!" he teased.

She stood up to chase him, brushing some of the snow off her clothes. He nimbly darted away, she was close behind but never really fast enough to actually catch him, until he slipped on a patch of icier snow and fell down on his hands and knees. She tackled him, and they rolled over and over, tangled up and howling with laughter.

After they had changed out of their damp clothes into dry ones, the children went downstairs to look for Cynthia to ask for some hot chocolate. Not seeing her in the kitchen, dining room, or living room, they trooped back upstairs to check the master bedroom, where she would normally would be if she wasn't downstairs. However, the master bedroom was empty, too.

"I wonder where she is," Connor sighed. "I want my hot chocolate."

"What if she disappeared?" Zoe asked, her eyes widening. She grabbed Connor's arm in concern.

He scoffed. "That's silly, why would she do that?"

"I don't know." She admitted, "Maybe magic?"

He shrugged her off. "Let's go look in our rooms."

"But she won't be in there," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not Bedsheet-Changing-Day, and it's not Cleanup Time, and it's also not bedtime."

"We can try," he insisted.

They went to Zoe's room first. "Mummy?" Connor called, opening the door.

"Yes?" came her muffled reply through the other side of the wall.

"She's in my room. Told you so!" he exclaimed triumphantly. Zoe simply snorted in return.

They pushed open the door to Connor's room, to see Cynthia sitting on the floor in front of the wardrobe, with a luggage next to her.

"What are you doing?" they asked in unison.

"I'm packing," she answered simply.

"For what?"

"Our ski trip, with the Harrises—remember?" she said, folding a pair of Connor's long pants and placing them inside the luggage.

"When is it?" asked Zoe.

"We're leaving on Saturday."

"For how long?"

"Four nights."

"How many days is that?" questioned Connor.

"Five."

"Will we get to go sledding again?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, but I think you'll get to try skiing this year, Connor," she said, turning to him.

He gasped. "I do? Really? Oh boy! Oh boy!"

"What about me?" Zoe never liked being left out. "Do I get to ski too?"

Cynthia thought for a moment, then replied, "You might be a little too young, but we'll get there and see, alright?" Zoe nodded.

"I'm so excited!" Connor gushed, running onto his bed and jumping up and down on it. "I get to go skiing!"

.

.

.

Previously, he and Zoe only got to sled with Samuel Harris, and then last year, Samuel got to ski too. So it was just the two of them sledding, while Cynthia and Mrs. Harris watched and chatted over things like recipes or the latest fashion trends. Larry and Mr. Harris always skied together, while Molly Harris, who was two years older than Connor, snowboarded. She fell down a lot though.

Connor was always a little jealous when they got to take the ski lifts up on the steeper slopes while he could only sled on the gentler slopes. Sledding was lots of fun, but it was very tiring to pull the sleds back up the hill. He wished there was a sled lift to help with that.

But now he got to go skiing! That meant that he was a grown up big boy, and he couldn't wait to show everyone how good he was at skiing.

The slopes were about two hours' drive away from home, and Connor loved the little log cabin they shared every year with the Harrises. It was made of wood, with smoke curling up from the chimney, and he thought it looked just like the cabins in picture books Cynthia had gotten for him from the library.

The only thing he didn't like about it was that he had to share a room with Samuel and Molly.

Actually, Molly was alright. She talked a little too loudly sometimes, but she was nice. On the other hand, Samuel, who had flaming red hair and lots of freckles, liked nothing better than to tease Connor and Zoe. He was six months older than Connor, but a good two and a half inches taller, which Connor thought just wasn't very fair at all, especially since Samuel made fun of it all the time. It wasn't Connor's fault that he was short.

And once, Samuel pulled Zoe's hair and made her cry and he'd wanted to punch Samuel, but he couldn't because his parents were there, and they would get upset and say, "Violence is never the answer, Connor" like they had when he hit Zoe on the arm because she had taken his favorite comic book and spilt her orange juice on it so they had to throw it away because all the pages stuck together and it was gross. Cynthia had bought him a new one a week afterwards, but he still got timeout and had to say sorry to Zoe for hitting her. Which he thought wasn't very fair because her spilling her juice on his book was "just an accident, Connor, accidents happen" so she hadn't gotten scolded. And she was younger, so he had to forgive her.

"Connor, are you coming?" Larry's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. "We're headed out."

"Coming!" he replied, throwing on his jacket and beanie, and running out to join the others.

"Connor, I'm a dragon, look!" Zoe exclaimed, breathing out in his face.

"And look, I'm smoking!" He placed two fingers to his lips, pretending to hold a cigarette, as his breath came out in puffs.

"I will never cease to be amazed at how the children get excited about seeing their own breaths even though it happens every year," Mr. Harris commented. The adults laughed.

Molly snorted. "But it's cool!" she protested.

"Why don't we go get our skis and stuff?" Cynthia suggested. "The weather is lovely now, wouldn't want to waste it."

(Connor wasn't sure how one could waste weather.)

.

.

.

"These are so hard to walk in," Connor complained as they headed towards the ski lifts in their snow boots.

"No, they're not," Samuel contradicted, showing off by jumping around in them.

Connor simply scowled back at him. Samuel was older, and he definitely had better motor skills, but it was annoying how he kept showing off.

They put on their skis, getting onto the chairlifts.

"My skis are so heavy," Connor giggled. "They feel like they're going to pull my feet off!"

"I feel like the skis are going to fall off my feet," Samuel added as they headed slowly up the mountain.

"They won't," Mr. Harris assured him. "They're strapped on tightly."

"We're so high!" Connor exclaimed, gripping his ski poles tightly in case he dropped them. The way they dangled above the rocky sides of the mountain made him feel a little terrified, it gave him a funny feeling in his stomach, but at the same time, he couldn't help but admit that it was exciting, and the view was simply gorgeous.

They made it off the lift without any mishaps, but Connor gulped when he saw the slope heading down the mountain.

"Are we ready?" Larry asked.

"Yup!" Molly hopped onto her snowboard, going down the slope with practiced ease before turning around a bend and disappearing out of sight.

"Okay, Sam, your turn," Mr. Harris encouraged. Samuel pushed himself off with his ski poles, making it down a few feet before his skis crisscrossed and he tripped over.

"It's okay, get up and try again," Mr. Harris yelled. Samuel struggled to his feet, adjusted his skis, and looked back to his father for help to navigate the turn. Mr. Harris skied down and guided him around the bend, leaving just Larry and Connor at the top of the slope.

"Let's go, bud," Larry said. "Don't cross your skis, and if you're going too fast just make a triangle with your skis, like this," he demonstrated. "I'll help you around the turn."

"But what if I fall down?" Connor asked.

"I'll help you up," Larry assured him.

Connor took a deep breath, shuffling forward on his skis. Then suddenly, he was sliding, sliding too quickly, and before he knew it, the front of his skis banged against each other and he was on his hands and knees in the snow. He tried getting up, but his skis were too long and clumsy and he couldn't get his feet into the right position.

"Daddy, help," he called, after trying again but to no avail. Larry came down and gave him a hand, pulling him back up and handing him the ski poles he had dropped.

"Try again," he urged.

The snow was soft and Connor stabbed at it a few times with his pole as he gathered up the courage to try it again.

"Go slow," Larry instructed, "keep them in a triangle shape, that's called a snow plough."

Connor tried again, but every time he attempted to do the snow plough, he ended up crossing his skis and falling down. "This is too hard," he complained. "I'm just falling down all the time."

Larry pulled him up again. "Don't worry, try again. Skiing isn't easy, but you'll get the hang of it if you practice. Let's try again, okay?

.

.

.

"What did you think of skiing, boys?" Mrs. Harris asked that night, as they had dinner in a restaurant not too far from their cabin. It was crowded with a number of other skiers and snowboarders, as many people travelled there during the holiday season.

"I don't like it," Connor said, as he helped himself to a breadstick. "It's too hard."

"Yeah, that's because you're so bad at it," Samuel laughed unkindly.

"Samuel, that's not nice," Mrs. Harris chided.

Connor glared at him. "Shut up."

"Connor, please don't be rude!" Cynthia exclaimed, her face flushing.

He took a bite of his breadstick sullenly. That was not fair, Samuel was the one who started it, and he was the one being mean in the first place, not Connor!

"Next year can I go skiing?" Zoe piped up.

"Yes, of course, honey," Larry said.

"Tomorrow can I go sledding? I don't want to ski anymore," Connor said.

"That's so babyish," Samuel teased.

"Will you stop it!" Connor yelled, slamming his fork onto his plate as hot tears sprang into his eyes.

"Crybaby," Samuel started until Mrs. Harris gave him a hard pinch on his arm. Several other people in the restaurant had turned to look at them in curiosity after Connor's outburst, and Cynthia looked mortified.

"Connor," Larry began, getting up from his seat. "Come with me." He picked up Connor—who was crying loudly by now—and carried him out of the restaurant.

Connor clung to Larry's shoulder, still sobbing, but Larry knelt down to set him down on the ground.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because Samuel is mean and stupid and he's always saying mean things to me!" Connor stamped his feet, wiping angrily at the tears that ran down his cheeks.

Larry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to him. "Okay, I'm not going to talk to you until you calm down."

Connor buried his face in the handkerchief and cried for a while more until he had calmed down significantly.

"Are you ready to talk?"

Connor hiccupped, then nodded.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because Samuel is being mean."

"Does that give you any reason to cry?"

"Because he made me angry… and sad," Connor muttered.

"But does that mean you have to cry?" Larry was pressed.

"No," he finally admitted, a little reluctantly.

Larry continued, "Samuel is just trying to provoke you, because he knows you get upset easily. So, if you start crying or getting angry, then he will keep doing it to you. Do you understand?" Connor nodded. "If Samuel says something to you that is mean or unkind, you need to just control yourself and ignore him. Alright?"

"But what if he keeps doing it?"

"If you don't give him the reaction he wants, then it's no fun for him to tease you anymore," Larry explained.

"Mm… okay," Connor finally agreed, still a little skeptical.

"Are you ready to go back in and finish your meal?"

"Yeah."

Larry led him back into the restaurant. Samuel was looking a little more subdued, and the two boys ignored each other for the rest of the meal. Connor focused instead on finishing his dinner.

His macaroni and cheese had already gone cold.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **leave a comment if you think samuel is a dick :P**  
 **or leave a comment if you liked this chapter**

 **or you can hit me up on tumblr thewickedverkaiking**

 **whatever you do, i still love you :))**


	12. the nerds awaken

**summary:** **in which larry introduces his children to star wars**

 **i know larry references star trek in the musical but i personally headcanon him to be a big star wars nerd don't me on this**

 **note: there is jar jar hate in this chapter. jussayin' ^.^**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Connor, let's have a movie night tonight, how does that sound?" Larry suggested over lunch three days after returning from their ski trip.

"Yes!" Connor agreed with a pump of his fist. "What movie is it?"

"Star Wars!" Larry grinned, and Cynthia couldn't help but chuckle at her husband's enthusiasm. He was an avid Star Wars fan and when the kids were born, he could not wait until they were old enough to appreciate the magic of the films.

"Can I watch too?" Zoe asked.

"Sure!" Larry's smile widened and Connor couldn't remember seeing him so excited about something before—except maybe baseball.

"Would you guys like some popcorn to go along?" Cynthia offered.

"Yes!" They chorused.

"Can we have it super-duper buttery?" Connor added.

She laughed. "Well, I don't know about 'super-duper buttery', but I can definitely put some extra butter in there."

"Oh goody goody!" he clapped his hands. "I can't wait!"

.

.

.

"What should we do for dinner?" Cynthia asked, setting two large bowls of buttery popcorn down on the coffee table as Larry played the DVD.

"How about ordering a pizza?" he suggested as he waited for the disk to load. "That way you can watch the show with us and it's easy for the kids to eat in front of the television."

"Yes! Pizza!" Connor and Zoe cheered. Cynthia often emphasized the importance of healthy eating, which meant that pizza and other kinds of fast foods were treats they only got once in a blue moon.

Just then, the opening theme music blasted through the speakers, making all of them jump.

"Oh! It's starting!" Connor squealed, hugging one of the couch cushions close to his chest in anticipation.

"Daddy! I can't read the words! Can you read them to me?" Zoe pleaded, frantically tugging at Larry's sleeve, afraid that she might miss out.

He read the words of the opening crawl out to them, and Connor interrupted in concern, "Is the whole movie like this?"

Larry chuckled. "No, it's not, he assured him. "This is just the beginning, now watch."

"I'll order the pizza later," Cynthia said, more to herself than anyone else. "It's barely six."

They watched in a silence that was occasionally punctuated by a gasp or cry of surprise from one of the kids. Just after the credits for "A New Hope" rolled, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Cynthia said, getting up from the couch to unlock the front door. "Pizza's here."

"How did you guys find the movie?" Larry asked, standing up to stretch his back.

"It was so awesome!" Connor gushed. "The fighting was so cool and I like the lightsabers."

Larry looked so pleased that Connor and Zoe both couldn't help but catch a bit of his excitement. "Well then, let's watch episode five once Mummy gets the pizza. It's called the Empire Strikes Back, and it's my favorite."

Zoe squinted. "No, but we should be watching two. Not five."

"What do you mean?" Larry asked, a little confused. "We just finished episode four, so the next is episode five."

"But we should have started with one!" Connor spluttered. "Not four!"

"No, episodes four to six came out first, so we watch them first," Larry explained.

"Then why aren't they called one, two three?" Zoe asked.

Larry chuckled. "Well, that's because episodes one to three tell the story of what happened before episode four, they were just released later."

"This is so confusing," Zoe muttered.

"But we should still watch episode one first," Connor argued. "If not it'll be like, backwards but not really."

"I know it's confusing," Larry agreed. "But because episodes four to six came out first, they're the classics, so we watch those first."

Fortunately, Cynthia interrupted their extremely confusing exchange with two boxes of pizza. "Are you guys hungry yet?"

"I want pepperoni!" Both kids yelled, leaping off the couch and each helping themselves to a slice as Larry started Empire Strikes Back.

Zoe screamed and Connor almost spat his popcorn out when Vader revealed himself to be Luke's father.

"But he cut off Luke's arm!" Connor spluttered.

"And he, he—Luke is the good guy!" Zoe exclaimed.

Cynthia leaned across the couch to whisper in Larry's ear. "Wait till they find out that Luke and Leia are related." He smirked at her and placed a finger over his lips.

When the movie ended, Connor and Zoe immediately shouted, "Can we watch the next one? Let's watch the next one please, Daddy! Please, Mummy?"

Larry made a big show of looking at the clock. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, it's getting late…" he teased.

"No, Daddy, we need to know what happened Han Solo!" Connor whined.

"Yeah! And what happened to everybody else!" Zoe added.

"Okay, okay," Larry relented. "We'll watch Return of the Jedi."

"But after that, you guys really need to get to bed. I don't want to deal with cranky kids tomorrow," Cynthia firmly reminded them.

.

.

.

"What? Luke is Leia's brother?" Connor screeched.

"But I thought he was going to marry her!" Zoe cried. "And they kissed! On the mouth!"

Larry and Cynthia couldn't help but dissolve into laughter at their comical reactions.

"Star Wars has so many surprises," Connor said as the movie continued on.

When the show was over, he and Zoe both let out a loud groan. "Alright, time to go to bed," Cynthia quickly ushered them upstairs before they could get a word out. "You can discuss the movie in the morning, you two need to sleep."

They were so spent that they fell asleep as soon as she tucked them in, but the following day the only thing on their minds was Star Wars.

"I like the lightsabers!"

"And then Vader cut off Luke's arm!"

"And that slug monster was super scary."

"Oh yeah, but the Ewoks were super cute."

"Yeah! Especially the babies!"

Larry interrupted their excited chatter with a huge grin on his face. "How would you guys like to watch Episodes One to Three tonight?"

They scrambled off the couch. "Really? Yes! Yes! What's it about?"

"It's about Darth Vader before he turned bad—when he was still Obi-Wan's student," he explained.

"Is there Luke and Leia?" Zoe queried.

"Why don't you wait and see?" He winked at her.

She flopped onto the floor with a dramatic "Aww…"

.

.

.

"That was so sad," Connor moaned as Revenge of the Sith ended. "Everyone who was good died!"

"Which did you prefer—the classics or the prequels?" Larry asked them.

Cynthia snorted from the opposite side of the couch. "You don't get to disown them if they prefer the prequels, you know."

Larry scoffed. "Are you questioning my parenting methods?"

They laughed while the two children stared in confusion at each other. After a beat, Connor realized that they were expectantly looking at him for an answer. "Oh! Uhh… I like all of them, I guess," he said. "They were super good!"

"I like all too," Zoe agreed.

"The lightsaber fights were super awesome," Connor continued.

"Padme was so pretty," Zoe added dreamily. "I want all her dresses."

"Thoughts on Jar Jar Binks?" Larry began, but Cynthia reached across and smacked the back of his head playfully.

"I like him!" Zoe decided.

"He's super funny," Connor nodded vigorously.

"Yeah! And he's super clumsy and uses a lot of funny words."

Larry feigned a look of horror. "You two like him?"

They nodded, giggling at his facial expression. Cynthia rolled her eyes.

.

.

.

"Are lightsabers real?" Connor inquired the following morning.

"No, they're not," Larry said. "But they are toy versions."

Zoe's face lit up. "Ooh! Can we buy some, Daddy?"

"What's the magic word?" Cynthia reminded her.

"Please?"

"Why don't we buy some after you finish your lunch?" Larry gestured towards her half-eaten bowl of pasta.

Connor crammed such a large spoonful into his mouth that he nearly choked.

Cynthia sighed at him in exasperation. "Slow down, what have I told you about haste making waste? If you choke, you're only going to slow yourself down."

He grinned sheepishly back at her as he continued shoveling ravioli into his mouth.

After less than ten minutes, Larry had grabbed the keys and the three of them dashed out the door, Cynthia's cries of "Connor! Wipe your mouth! You have sauce all over—ugh!" falling on deaf ears.

In half an hour, they trooped triumphantly back through the front door, each of the kids holding a lightsaber, and Connor still with pasta sauce smeared across his cheek.

"Look, Mummy! Mine is purple!" Zoe waved her lightsaber proudly.

"Mine is green!" Connor said as Cynthia grabbed a napkin to wipe his face clean.

Larry added, "Don't forget the red and blue ones! Let's go have a duel in the backyard!"

Connor and Zoe ran out the backyard door with a whoop, Larry following after them. Cynthia stopped him with a playful tone in her voice. "Congratulations, your children are officially nerds now."

.

.

.

 **this chapter feels like a shitpost**

 **i hate it uggghhhh**

 **anyway, tell me what you think of it and what your favorite star wars movie is**

 **mine are empire strikes back and rogue one**

 **AND THE LAST JEDI COMES OUT TOMORROW HYPE HYPE HYPE**

 **also, happy hanukkah to everyone who celebrates it!**


	13. christmas day

**summary: in which the murphys celebrate christmas, some things go well and other things... don't**

 **thank you to everyone who commented, i love you all**

 **here's an early christmas chapter to everyone who celebrates it :)**

 **tw: toxic masculinity**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Connor and Zoe were so excited they struggled to fall asleep on the night of Christmas Eve. Cynthia had agreed to let Connor sleep over in Zoe's room for the night, and the two of them chatted excitedly for over an hour after bedtime before tiring themselves out and finally drifting off.

In the middle of the night, Connor woke up. The room was lit by the soft purple glow of Zoe's lava lamp, which also doubled as her night light. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Zoe's clock read three forty-five in the morning. That was past midnight, which meant that it was Christmas!

He nudged Zoe, who was still fast asleep. "Zo, it's Christmas," he whispered.

"Hmm…?" She rolled over, sleepy eyes blinking up at him but not really focusing.

"It's Christmas," he repeated in excitement. She didn't respond, and he realized she had fallen back to sleep. He thought that she looked a little bit like an angel, with her wavy brown hair all over the pillow, and her pretty white nightgown against the lavender bedsheets.

He slid off the bed and crept to the window. He wanted to see what Christmas morning looked like. It was too dark to really see anything properly, but he could make out some light snow falling, illuminated by the light of a full moon. The floor was cool against his bare feet as he crept back into bed.

"Merry Christmas, Zo-zo," he murmured, snuggling up next to her before drawing up the covers and drifting off to sleep.

The clock read six twenty-five when Zoe woke up.

"Connor!" she squealed. "Wake up! It's Christmas!"

Connor's eyes shot open. "Merry Christmas, Zo!" He exclaimed, sitting up in bed so quickly he nearly rolled off it.

"Merry Christmas, Connor!" Zoe grinned.

"Let's go downstairs and see if Santa left us our presents!" Connor looked ready to burst from all the excitement.

Zoe tugged on his sleeve to stop him. "No, Daddy said we can only go out of our room after seven o'clock."

Connor's face fell. "Oh, right." He flopped back onto the bed. "I guess we'll have to wait then."

Zoe grabbed her hairbrush and began brushing her hair in front of the mirror. "What do you think you're getting for presents?"

"Uh…" He considered the question for a while. "Toys, candy… Oh! I asked Mummy for a remote-controlled car last week, and she said 'maybe', so I hope I get that!"

She nodded. "And I want new dresses!"

Presents were always a surprise, and Connor and Zoe loved guessing what they might be. They exchanged several more thoughts pertaining to the aspects of their presents, when Connor—whose gaze kept drifting back towards the clock—cheered, "It's seven!"

They raced out of the bedroom, down the corridor, and into their parents' room. "It's Christmas!" Zoe shrieked, the two of them leaping onto the bed. Larry grunted as she slammed into his side with an apologetic squeak.

"What time is it?" Cynthia groaned from under the covers.

"It's seven, Mum!" Connor exclaimed, bouncing on his knees and making the whole bed bounce along. "Can you guys hurry up and wake up?"

"Yeah! We want presents!" Zoe added.

Larry finally sat up, the kids laughing at his messy bed head. "Mummy and I are going to brush our teeth and get dressed, why don't you two do that, too?"

"Okay!" They dashed into the bathroom, agreeing to share the sink for once. While getting dressed, Connor was so excited he wore his shirt inside-out while Zoe got tangled up in her long-sleeved cardigan. But they were soon at the bottom of the stairs, hollering for their parents to hurry up and join them. At last, Larry and Cynthia came downstairs and gave them permission to open their stockings. With an ecstatic whoop, they grabbed their stockings from the hooks above the fireplace. Larry's mother had knitted the stockings for each of the kids with their names monogrammed on them shortly after they were born.

"Ooh! I got a new teddy bear!" Connor exclaimed, pulling a small stuffed toy out and hugging it to his chest.

Zoe pulled out a Barbie. "And I got a doll! Oh, see, I got hairclips, sticker earrings, and bracelets!"

"I got a firetruck! And… what's this?" Connor held up a small packet.

"Those are glow stars!" Cynthia smiled, she loved seeing the pure joy on her children's faces as they received their gifts.

"What can they do?"

"Well, you can stick them on your bedroom walls or ceiling, and at night they glow in the dark."

Connor's smile broadened. "Cool!"

They emptied out the rest of the contents of their stockings—candy, stationery, flashlights, hair accessories, and more.

"Okay," Larry finally interrupted their delighted chatter. "Why don't we have breakfast, and then you can open the presents that are under the tree?"

"What's for breakfast?" Connor asked with a sniff. "It smells good." Christmas breakfasts were another special tradition in their family, and Cynthia had spent the past week browsing cookbooks to make something unique yet delicious.

"You'll have to wait and see," Larry said, as he honestly did not know either. "Why don't we go sit at the table?"

They quickly obeyed as Cynthia emerged from the kitchen, and their eyes grew wide as they saw what was on the plates. "Oh wow!" She had made pancakes in the shape of a snowman, with a bacon scarf and chocolate chip eyes, topped with a strawberry hat.

"That's so cute, Mum!" Connor commented as he drizzled maple syrup over it and took a large bite. "And yummy!"

"Oh, that's awesome! I'm so glad you like it," she said, nearly giddy from joy.

Connor and Zoe scarfed down their breakfast, eager to get to the rest of their presents. There were two boxes sitting under the large Christmas tree, each with a bow and their respective names handwritten in Cynthia's neat cursive.

"May we open them please?" Zoe begged.

"Yes, you may, since both of you look ready to explode!" Cynthia laughed. Before she could even finish the sentence, they had ripped off the wrapping paper.

"My remote-controlled car!" Connor whooped with glee. "Can I play with it now?"

"I'll need to put in the batteries for you first," Larry said, taking it from him. "You can play with it once I'm done, but why don't you clean up the mess on the floor?"

"Look, Con! I got nail polish!" Zoe exclaimed, holding up a manicure and makeup kit. "And lipstick! And makeup!"

"Wow!" Connor replied, as he gathered up the wrapping paper to throw into the trashcan.

"Can I play with them later?" Zoe asked, as she helped Connor to dispose of the paper.

"Of course, sweetie," Cynthia said. "We can go upstairs and paint your nails after this."

"I'm going to play with my car!" Connor reminded them. "Do you want to watch?"

"Right, the batteries, let me get them and we'll take it for a spin, alright?" Larry headed down to the basement to get his screwdriver and several batteries. He came back up, sat down at the dining table, and proceeded to place the batteries into the car and the controller, while Connor stood on the side, wiggling in anticipation. Larry flicked the switch at last, and the car lit up, wheels spinning furiously as it lay on its roof.

"There you go," Larry said, handing the remote and the car to Connor.

He grabbed it, calling out, "Thanks, Daddy!" as he bounded up the stairs to his room.

Zoe, who had been standing nearby, rushed after him. "Wait for me! I want to watch, too!"

A moment later, Connor came down the stairs to sheepishly inquire, "Actually, how do I drive this?"

Larry laughed. "Come, I'll show you."

They returned to his room, and Larry showed him how to control the car. "Here, give it a try now." He handed the remote to Connor.

Connor pushed down hard on one of the buttons. The car roared forward and slammed into his bookshelf. "Oops."

Zoe giggled.

"Don't worry, just reverse it," Larry said. Connor did, and the car ran over his toe. He yelped in surprise and took a step back.

"You're a very bad driver," Zoe commented as the car haphazardly veered around the room, occasionally ramming into the wall or table leg. "If anyone was in the car, they would be dead." She continued seriously.

He threw his head back and laughed. "I know! But it's so hard to control!"

"Let me try," she said, grabbing the remote from his hands. He stepped back and let her have it, folding his arms as he watched her figure out the controls. On her first try, she crashed the car into the wall.

"You're a very bad driver too, Zo-zo," he teased, and they both giggled.

.

.

.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked, appearing in Zoe's doorway.

"We're painting nails! See?" Zoe held up her left hand, fingernails sparkling with green nail polish.

"Be careful," Cynthia warned, as she sat cross-legged on the rug, bent over Zoe's other hand. "You don't want to smudge it—it's not dry yet."

"Oh, right," she quickly placed her hand flat down on the floor.

Connor sat down on the rug next to them. "You're doing green?"

"Yes!" Zoe enthusiastically answered. "Because it's like the Christmas tree leaves!"

He dug through the bag of other colors before holding up a bottle. "Can I have blue?"

"Let me finish Zoe's nails first, then I'll get to you," Cynthia said.

"How much longer?"

"Maybe five minutes? Just be patient, I'm almost done—no Zoe, please sit still," she turned her attention back to Zoe's fingernails.

Connor shook the bottle as he waited; he liked the sound of the little metal ball inside. "Why is there a ball inside?"

"To stop the polish from drying out," Cynthia replied, without looking up.

"What happens if it dries up?"

"Connor, wait, not now please, I'm trying to concentrate!" Cynthia complained as the brush slipped and some polish got onto Zoe's fingertip. Connor gave a dramatic sigh, rolling over onto his back, humming a tune and shaking the bottle until she announced that she was done.

"My turn now?" he asked eagerly, sitting back up.

"Yep, blue, right?" She said, taking the bottle from him and unscrewing the lid.

"Yup," he nodded, popping the 'p'.

She began on his right hand, and Zoe hung around to watch, occasionally blowing on her own nails in an attempt to hasten the drying.

"This is so cool," he commented about halfway through.

"It's pretty," Zoe agreed, admiring her own fingers.

When Cynthia was done, he began waving his hands around, laughing as he did so. "Look! So blue!" However, she warned him not to touch his nails until they were dry. "How long will it take?"

"About ten minutes," she replied.

"That's so long," he pouted.

"Just be patient," she admonished. "If not you're going to smudge it and it won't look nice. Oh, right, we're going to the Harrises' later for a Christmas dinner, so make sure you're dressed and ready in an hour's time, okay?"

"Will we get lots of yummy food there?" Zoe asked.

"I'm sure there will be lots of yummy food—we're bringing a ham."

"Yay! Ham is my favorite!" Connor cheered.

"Zoe, you have a new dress, later can you come to my room and we'll see if it fits you?" Cynthia reminded her.

"Okay, sure!" Zoe said excitedly, clapping her hands at the prospect of a new outfit.

.

.

.

"Are you guys ready? We're leaving in fifteen minutes," Larry called. Fortunately, the Harrises lived just down the street, which meant they were just a five-minute walk away.

"I'm ready!" Connor said, pouring himself a glass of water in the kitchen.

"Connor, did you get something on your hand?" Larry asked as he happened to glance over and caught a glimpse of blue on Connor's fingers.

"No?" He replied, checking his hands for a stain.

"Wait, let me see," Larry frowned, coming up and taking a look at his hands. "Is that nail polish, Connor?"

"Yeah! Zoe shared it with me!"

"Can you… why don't you take it off before we go out?"

"What? No! Why?" Connor exclaimed in dismay.

"It doesn't—nail polish is not for boys. Go, ask Mummy to help you remove it." Larry braced himself for Connor's reaction.

"No! I like it! I don't want to take it off, I just got it on today and it's pretty!"

"Connor, we're going out soon, don't make us late please, just do it," he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue.

"No! I don't want to!" Connor yelled.

Cynthia appeared, her curler still in her hand and her hair half-done. "What is going on?"

"Cynthia, could you help Connor to take off his nail polish?" Larry asked as Connor burst into tears.

"But we're going out soon and I still need to do Zoe's hair for her, just let him wear it for once," she protested.

"Could you just do it real quick?" he pressed.

"No! But I like it! Don't take it off, Mummy, please!" Connor begged.

"Connor, listen to me, you can't wear nail polish out, everyone will laugh at you," Larry argued, gently brushing away his son's tears with a tissue. "Just go take it off now like a good boy, okay?"

Cynthia bit her lip, forgetting she had already applied her lipstick. "Come on, Connor, let's take it off. You can paint it another day. Today is not a good day for nail polish and I'm sorry." She led him upstairs and into the bathroom.

"But I don't want to take it off," Connor wailed.

"Connor, please stop crying, your face is all red, how are you going to go out looking like that?" she sighed, grabbing a washcloth and running it under the cold tap. She handed it to him, and he pressed it to his face, as she dug around in the drawer under the sink for cotton pads and her nail polish remover.

"Why must I take it off?" he demanded, his sadness beginning to turn into anger.

"Just… do what Daddy says, okay? We're going to be late, I still need to do your sister's hair and get her ready," Cynthia said, frantically wiping polish off his nails.

"It smells gross," he almost gagged. "And why doesn't Zoe have to take it off?"

"She's a girl, people don't have a problem with it. Now go! I need to get dressed myself," she shooed him out of the room.

"Stupid people," he muttered, heading downstairs to sulk on the couch until it was time to go.

.

.

.

It was nearly eleven at night when they finally returned home from the party, Connor asleep in Cynthia's arms and Zoe in Larry's.

"Goodnight, Connor," Cynthia murmured as she tucked him into bed.

His eyelids fluttered as he curled up under the duvet. "Goodnight," he responded sleepily.

"Merry Christmas," she kissed his head and left the room, turning off the lights.

"Goodnight," he whispered to himself, taking one last look at the glow stars scattered on his ceiling and walls before drifting back to sleep.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **guysguysguys im going to see the last jedi today i am soooooo hyped omggg**

 **anyway, just to let y'all know, i try to post every wednesday (where i live) but because next wednesday is near christmas i have several other activities going on and i'm not sure if i'll be able to stick to the schedule. i'll try my best, but the next chapter may be a little late...**

 **please like/comment, i love hearing from you! and merry christmas! (or happy holidays if you don't celebrate xmas :D)**


	14. five years old

**summary: in which connor turns five and gets the best gift of his life**

 **f l u ff**

 **-unashamedly dumps fluff on all of you-**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"I'm five!" Connor whooped as he dashed down the stairs. "I'm five, everyone!"

Cynthia beamed. "My baby's all grown-up!"

Larry clapped him on the back as he sat down for breakfast. "Happy birthday, son!"

From the top of the stairs, Zoe appeared, still clad in her nightgown and with a hairbrush in her hand. "It's Connor birthday! Happy birthday to Connor! Happy birthday to you!" She sang, before rushing back to her room to get dressed.

Connor wriggled from excitement in his seat. "I'm five now!" he repeated happily. "Is that very big?"

"Yes! You're growing up to be such a big, strong, and handsome boy!" Cynthia said as she handed him a large plate of chocolate chip pancakes. "Do you want to bake a birthday cake later?"

"Ooh!" He exclaimed, his forkful of pancakes in midair. "Really? We can?"

She nodded. "Of course we can!"

"Can we make it chocolate cake?"

"Sure, if you want! It's your birthday after all," she replied indulgently.

"Can Zo-zo help too?"

"Do what?" Zoe asked, as she handed Cynthia a scrunchie to do her hair up.

"Bake a cake for Connor's birthday," Cynthia said, sweeping Zoe's hair up into a ponytail. "And yes, she can," she said, turning back to him.

"Oh fun!" Zoe giggled. "Will it be like baking on T.V.?" She asked, referring to the cooking shows Cynthia enjoyed watching.

Cynthia chuckled. "I don't think I'll be as good as the people on television, but we can try! And if it doesn't work out, we can always buy a cake, right?" They nodded.

Larry interrupted them as he cleared his plate into the kitchen. "See you later, Cynthia," he said, grabbing his car keys and heading out the door.

"Wait! Where is Daddy going?" Connor demanded.

"He has something to do," Cynthia replied. "He'll be back by lunchtime."

"But it's my birthday! I wanted him to stay home!" he exclaimed in disappointment

Cynthia patted the back of his head comfortingly. "Don't worry, Con, he'll be back really soon. Now, why don't you finish your breakfast so we can bake your cake?"

"Okay," he mumbled, a little more subdued as he pushed what was left of his pancakes around the plate.

.

.

.

"I like cracking eggs," Connor giggled as he cracked another into the mixing bowl.

Cynthia pulled open a drawer to take out a whisk. "Now, who wants to help me mix the batter?"

"Me!"

"Me!"

"Okay, how about we take turns? Connor, you can go first, since you're the birthday boy." She handed him the whisk. "Oh, hold on." She muttered, using a fork to pick out a few tiny pieces of eggshells from the batter. "Don't want those in our cake."

"Can you eat eggshells?" Zoe wondered.

Connor began mixing the batter. "Wow! It's so hard to mix!"

Cynthia helped him to hold the bowl steady while he stirred, then turned back to Zoe. "Well, I don't think they'll taste very nice in our cake."

"What do they taste like?"

"Would you like to try?" Cynthia teased, holding out a broken piece of eggshell towards her.

"Ew! No!" Zoe laughed, pushing it away.

"Mummy, my arm is tired," Connor said, dropping the whisk back into the bowl.

"It's hard work, isn't it?" Cynthia commented, passing the bowl to Zoe. "Fortunately, I have two strong helpers!"

"Am I strong?" Connor asked, rolling up his sleeve to flex his arm proudly.

Cynthia laughed. "Yes, you are. You're a big strong five-year-old!"

"I'm strong too?" Zoe asked.

"Oh, yes you are," Cynthia assured her. "And you're going to be four soon!'

"Yay!"

Connor swiftly stuck a finger into the bowl to get a taste of the batter. "Hey!" Cynthia exclaimed as his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Don't do that! You'll get to lick the bowl later!"

"But I wanted to lick the bowl!" Zoe protested.

"Its Connor's birthday, honey. Let him lick it, alright? I'll give you the spoon to lick though, if you want," Cynthia said.

"Okay," she nodded, settling for the compromise.

"Now let's butter this pan," Cynthia said, peeling the wrapper off a stick of butter. She cut two squares out, "One piece each and try to keep it neat, please."

But of course, children and butter never result in anything neat, and by the time they had greased the baking pan, Connor and Zoe's faces were smeared with the butter and the countertop was covered in greasy fingerprints. Cynthia's heart sank a little at the mess she would have to clean up, but their grinning faces were worth it.

She carefully poured the batter into the pan and placed it in the oven. "Now we wait," she smiled.

"Can I lick the bowl?" Connor reminded her.

"Right, here you go," she handed them their respective bowl and spoon. They proceeded to lick them clean, laughing in delight and getting chocolate batter all over their face and hands.

"You two are a mess," Cynthia snorted when they were finished. She set down the sponge she had been using to clean up and dried her hands on the tea towel. "Now I need to clean you guys up before I can make the icing."

She hustled them into the bathroom and helped them to wash their faces clean. By the time she had gotten them all cleaned up, the cake was ready. Pulling on some oven mitts, she took it out of the oven and placed it on the counter to cool.

"Wow," Connor and Zoe breathed, gathering around. "It looks so yummy."

"We'll let it cool, and then we'll decorate it, does that sound good?" They nodded.

The front door opened and closed. "Daddy's home!" Zoe exclaimed.

"Connor, someone here to see you," Larry called from the doorway.

"Who?" Connor asked, turning towards Cynthia.

She smiled mysteriously. "Well, why don't you take a look?"

Connor headed out to the front door and stopped short at the sight. Larry was standing there, and in his arms was the most adorable puppy Connor had ever seen.

"Are you going to stand there gawking?" Larry laughed. "Or are you going to come here and say hello to your dog?"

Almost gingerly, Connor stepped forward and Larry carefully placed the black Labrador puppy in his arms. Connor sat on the floor and buried his face in its silky fur, a sniffle escaping him.

"Connor, are you crying?" Larry asked, a little concerned.

"Yeah," he laughed slightly shakily, as he wiped at his eyes. "But it's 'cause I'm happy! Thank you, Daddy!"

Larry ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'm glad you like her. Happy birthday, son."

"Oh, it's a girl?" Connor asked, giving the dog a scratch behind her ears. She licked his hand and he giggled.

Larry nodded. "Yup, black female Labrador Retriever, just over nine weeks old."

"Who is it?" Zoe inquired loudly from the kitchen. "Who came to see Connor?"

"Come here and look!" Connor beamed, holding out the puppy towards her.

"Oh my goodness!" she squealed, dashing forward. "Can I pat him?"

"It's a girl," he informed her, handing the dog to her.

"She's so cute!" She cooed, as the dog looked back a Connor and let out a whine.

"She wants Connor!" Larry laughed as Zoe reluctantly handed her back to Connor. He made a beeline for the kitchen.

Cynthia looked up from the cake with a smile. "How do you like your birthday surprise, Connor?"

"It's the bestest best!" He exclaimed, hugging the puppy tightly to his chest.

"Oh, be careful, Connor," Cynthia warned. "She's not a teddy bear, you need to be gentle with her. Also, have you picked a name for her yet?"

He thought for a while. "Can I name her from somebody in Star Wars?"

"After somebody in Star Wars," she corrected. "And of course you can, she's your dog."

He set the dog down on the floor, and watched her explore the kitchen, sniffing at the cupboards and in the corners before returning back to him. "Skywalker?" He tried at last. She barked in reply. "Skywalker? Do you like that?" He repeated, squatting down to pat her head. She barked again. "Okay!" he announced. "Her name is Skywalker!"

"That's a great name," Larry said approvingly. "Why don't you take Skywalker out of the kitchen so that Mummy can finish making your birthday cake?"

"Okay," he scooped her up and carried her to the backyard. Larry followed and the two of them spent the next hour playing with Skywalker, as Cynthia and Zoe decorated the birthday cake.

"Guys, come in and we'll cut the cake!" Cynthia finally called from the kitchen.

"What about lunch?" asked Connor, rubbing his stomach. "I'm hungry!"

"We're having cake for lunch! Don't you want that?" she winked. "You get to break all the rules on your birthday, wow!"

"Oh yes!" he scrambled back into the house, Skywalker hurrying right behind.

They sang the birthday song and he made a wish before blowing out the five candles. Larry cut each of them a slice of cake as Connor asked, "Can Skywalker have some, too?"

Larry shook his head emphatically. "No, chocolate is poisonous for dogs."

Connor's eyes widened in horror. "Really? Why?"

"They digest food differently from humans, so some of our foods are dangerous for them."

"That's so sad, because this cake is super good!" Connor said, giving Cynthia a thumbs up.

She beamed, "It was a team effort, wasn't it?" she said, giving him and Zoe a high-five.

After dinner at a restaurant and ice-cream and more cake at home, Connor got ready for bed, Skywalker still at his heels. Finally, he crawled into his bed, and she snuggled up against his chest.

"Ready for bed?" Cynthia asked when she came into his room to tuck him in.

"Yes, and Skye is sleeping with me tonight," he said as she drew the covers over them.

She smiled at the dog's nickname. "Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yes, it was a really really good one," he said with a yawn.

Cynthia thought she had never seen him so happy and contented before, and it made her heart melt a little. "That's awesome," she murmured, kissing him goodnight before turning out the lights.

In the dark, Skywalker whined and licked Connor's face. They snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **eyy so i took a one week hiatus because christmas and guests and family and STAR WARS and everything was kinda overwhelming but i also had a pretty great time overall. i apologize for not posting a chapter last week but i was really just so busy i couldn't get online long enough to post. but after this i'll hopefully be back on schedule!**

 **AND YES I GAVE CONNOR A DOG**

 **as usual, like, comment, subscribe, whatever. i love you all :D**


	15. a princess party

**summary: in which zoe celebrates her fourth birthday with a princess party**

 **(larry's not an ass in this, and everyone is happy)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

A month later, Zoe's birthday had arrived, and at her request, Cynthia had organized a birthday party for her, inviting several girls from her ballet and art class over for a Disney princess theme celebration. Larry and Connor had spent the previous day blowing up balloons and hanging up decorations, while expressing their mutual disgust at the overwhelming amount of pink and purple. Cynthia spent the morning painting Zoe's nails, doing her hair, and finally helping her into her Aurora dress. Connor, who had a day off from kindergarten, restlessly spent his time alternating between reading and goofing around with Skywalker.

At last, Zoe came downstairs. "Look at me, Connor!" she exclaimed, twirling around in her pink dress.

Connor hopped off the couch excitedly. "You look so pretty!" he said, reaching up to poke at her tiara.

She smacked his hand away. "Don't touch it!' she chided seriously, smoothing back her hair. "Mummy spent a very long time on it, and my friends are coming soon."

Connor shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. There were two trays of cupcakes, all iced with pink cream and decorated with colorful sprinkles. On the opposite counter, there was a bowl of chips and another filled with chocolate. After taking a quick look to make sure no one was looking, he grabbed a handful of each and stuffed them into his mouth. A little guilty, he quickly hurried upstairs to his room where he stayed until the guests arrived.

When the doorbell rang, Connor went to sit at the top of the stairs where he could observe without actually having to greet or interact with them. However, Cynthia spotted him and motioned him to join them.

"And this is Connor," she said, introducing him to the group of girls. "He just turned five last month."

"I'm almost five," said one girl, who was wearing a Cinderella dress. Connor recognized her as one of Zoe's classmates from ballet. He had switched to a more advanced class a week after his fifth birthday, which meant he and Zoe no longer danced together. However, he still remembered most of the girls from the previous class.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Zoe," said another girl who was dressed as Belle. She probably went for art with Zoe, since he hadn't seen her before and he didn't take art. She exaggeratedly whispered in Zoe's ear, "He's so handsome."

Connor rolled his eyes as Zoe turned to look at him. "Yeah, he is," she laughingly agreed.

Just then, Skywalker bounded over, her tail wagging in excitement at the sight of visitors. The girls squealed collectively.

"A puppy!"

"It's so cute!"

"Can we pat it?"

"Yes, you can. But you must be careful, she's not a teddy bear," Connor said, echoing Cynthia's words.

They gathered around Skywalker and ran their hands over her silky fur, murmuring about how soft and sweet she was, while she thumped her tail against the ground in joy.

"Alright girls, do you want to have some snacks before we play a game?" Cynthia said, gesturing to the table. Connor grabbed more chips for himself, and was just about to ask her a question when the doorbell rang. Cynthia went to open the door, and Molly Harris was standing there, looking rather flustered with a tray of cookies in her hand.

"Hi Cynthia, sorry I'm late, my mom messed up the recipe the first time, so we had to do it again."

"No, worries, Molly," Cynthia warmly said as Molly stepped in. "We just started, shall I set the cookies along with the other snacks? They look great." Molly nodded and Cynthia took the tray from her and rearranged some of the dishes on the table to make room for it.

"Where's Samuel?" Connor asked.

"He's at soccer," Molly replied as she took a cookie, handing Connor another. He accepted it with a small smile and nod, secretly glad that Samuel wasn't there.

Finishing the cookie, he went to Cynthia and tugged at her sleeve. "Mummy, can I go do something else?"

"Alright, why don't you help Daddy set up the piñata?"

"Okay!" he skipped down to Larry's workshop, which was in the spacious shed just behind their house. Opening the door, he poked his head in.

Larry looked up, the piñata on the table and packs of candy and other various things scattered around it. "You're just in time," he said, looking up. "I was just about to do it myself."

"Can I help?" Connor asked, taking a seat next to him on the workbench.

"Sure," Larry said, as he opened the flap on the top of the unicorn piñata. "Just pick the candy you want and put them in here."

"Can I put these in?" Connor held up a pack of mini chocolate bars.

"Anything you want." Larry smiled. Connor seriously chose the different chocolate, candies, and toys and filled the piñata up.

Larry grabbed a chocolate bar for himself; winking at Connor, he unwrapped and ate it.

"Can I eat too?" Connor asked, grabbing two Hershey's kisses.

"Sure," Larry shrugged. "I mean, I ate some, so I can't say no to you, right?"

Connor laughed, and crammed the chocolates into his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, Cynthia opened the door and stuck her head in. "Guys, we're cutting the cake soon, is the piñata ready?"

"Yup!" Connor chirped. Larry picked it up and they went back into the house. Cynthia lit the candles as Larry hung the piñata up on a hook on their backyard porch. Everyone gathered around and sang the birthday song to Zoe, then she blew out the candles as they cheered. They all ate a slice of cake and when they were done, they headed to the porch.

Larry handed Zoe the broomstick wrapped in colorful paper (Cynthia had suggested Larry's baseball bat before deeming it too easy to break the piñata). Connor picked Skywalker up so she wouldn't get hit as Zoe swung the stick at the piñata. Each of the children—including Connor—got a few hits at it, and Cynthia was just about to comment that the piñata was tougher than they expected, when it finally split open, spilling out its contents all over the ground.

And then it was chaos, as everyone was on their hands and knees, trying to pick up everything and stuff them into the goodie bags Cynthia had provided. Connor hugged his filled bag to his chest and proudly ran up to his parents to show it to them. Cynthia's eyes widened at the bulging bag of loot.

"Don't eat all of that in one day," Larry joked.

Connor rolled his eyes. Of course he wasn't going to eat it all in a day. He was going to save it, and eat one piece a day—or maybe two, sometimes—and he would make all that candy last a long, long time.

.

.

.

After the guests had gone, Connor and Zoe lay on the couch, stuffed with cake and other snacks, and with Zoe's various presents scattered around on the floor.

"Oh!" Connor suddenly remembered, sitting up. Zoe turned to look at him. "I almost forgot that I have a present for you!" He bounded up the stairs to his room, reached under his bed and grabbed a wrapped present. He rushed downstairs and thrust it into her arms. "Open it."

She tore off the pink wrapping paper, revealing a stuffed tiger. "Oh, it's so cute!" she beamed. "Thanks, Con!" She wrapped him in a big hug.

"You're welcome, Zo-Zo. Happy birthday!"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **please leave a review if you enjoyed this! im sorry this is a shorter chapter but ive been in a writing slump for the past week and just...ugh**  
 **but reading your comments Motivate me a lot! -hint hint wink wink-**

 **also, send me prompts for future chapters and i'll try to incorporate them (while staying as canon as possible)**


	16. small bump

**ahhh im super excited for this chapter. i'm sorry it's so short but writer's block has been kicking my ass. hopefully you guys still like it!**

 **didn't find any trigger warnings but pls let me know if you do! i'll just add it in :)**

 **summary: in which cynthia is pregnant and excitement ensues**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Their parents had been acting weird for the past week and a half. Connor and Zoe had decided that there must be something very strange going on. They talked a lot in hushed whispers and spent too much time in the empty guest rooms. At first Zoe thought they might have been planning a surprise, but then the next day Cynthia had said she was going to the doctor's. When she came back, there were more whispers with Larry, and odd glances thrown their way. Connor thought she looked like she may have been crying. There was just something very unusual going on that he didn't understand.

At dinner, Zoe had wondered aloud what the doctor said, but Larry shook his head and didn't reply. Neither did Cynthia.

Connor hoped that nothing bad was going to happen.

He knew one boy in his kindergarten class who said his mother had gone to the doctor and the doctor said that she had gotten cancer, and that she might die. Connor really, really hoped that Cynthia didn't get cancer, too. Had the doctor said something bad?

After dinner, he helped to clear his plate into the kitchen, and was just about to go upstairs to read a book when Larry stopped him.

"Connor, don't go upstairs yet, come sit down. Zoe, you too… Mummy and I have something to tell you."

This was it, Connor thought. Larry was going to say Cynthia was going to die, or something else bad was going to happen, or—

But when he looked up, Cynthia was smiling.

"Kids, Daddy and Mummy have something very exciting to tell you," she began.

Connor relaxed. So this was going to be good news. Maybe they were planning a surprise for them after all.

Larry cleared his throat. "Mummy is going to have a baby!"

Connor and Zoe gasped, turning to each other in consternation, then back at their parents. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Cynthia replied, practically glowing. "Mummy's pregnant."

"Can I see the baby?" Zoe asked in excitement.

Cynthia laughed. "No, the baby is still in Mummy's tummy. It's not ready to be born yet."

"When will it be ready?"

"Baby is two months old now, so it will be born around November."

"Is it a boy or girl?" Connor asked.

"We don't know yet, but the doctors will tell us in a few weeks."

"I hope it's a girl," Zoe declared. "Because I already have a brother."

"And I already have a sister," Connor said. "So I want a brother."

"It is what it is," Larry cut in. "We can't change that."

"What if I pray hard enough? Like super, super hard?" Connor pressed.

Cynthia smiled. "I don't know, but you can try. But we'll still love the baby whether it's a boy or a girl, right?"

"Yeah," they agreed, nodding.

"Are you guys excited?" Larry asked.

"Yes! Super excited!" They chorused.

"This is so cool," Connor exclaimed, doing a little dance.

Zoe suddenly gasped at her new realization. "And I'm going to be a big sister!"

"Yes, you are!" Larry affirmed, tugging at her pigtails affectionately.

"But how do babies happen?" Connor queried. Larry almost choked and turned bright red. Connor looked at him in puzzlement

However, Cynthia had anticipated the question, and she simply replied, "Well, Connor, sometimes God chooses to give a family a baby!"

"Ohh," he nodded, accepting the answer. "Cool."

.

.

.

The next week was a whirlwind full of excitement, especially for Connor and Zoe. Cynthia began unpacking their old baby clothes, while Larry started to set up their old crib in one of the guest rooms, which they decided to convert to the new nursery. Connor and Zoe found it endlessly amusing to sit inside their old crib, giggling and making baby noises at each other before hollering at Larry to let them out. Sometimes, they put their stuffed toys and dolls under their shirts, exclaiming "I'm pregnant too!" before pulling them out with an exuberant shout of "baby's born!"

They loved putting their hands on Cynthia's belly as it grew, marveling at the fact that there was another human being—their sibling—inside their mother. When Cynthia brought home ultrasounds pictures from her checkups, they "ooh" and "ahh"-ed in delight, even though they couldn't really see anything in the grainy black-and-white pictures.

"The good thing is," Cynthia commented one night as she sat down with a box of baby clothes, "I already have a boy and a girl, so either way, I don't have to buy too many clothes." She pulled out a dress. "Zoe, look! This was your first dress!"

Zoe giggled, going over to take a closer look. "It's so nice, I wish I could still wear it," she commented, running her little hand over the soft, white material.

Connor dug through a box of their old toys. "Why are all the books so soft?" He picked up one and waved it around as an example.

"That's so it won't hurt the baby if the baby drops it," Cynthia explained.

Zoe held up a shoe. "Why is it so small?"

"That's because you had very small feet as a baby," Cynthia said.

"Not so small!" Connor exclaimed, grabbing the shoe to better examine it.

"Yes! You were that small," Cynthia laughed at their incredulous expressions. "Actually, Connor, you were even smaller than Zoe!"

"He still is!" Zoe teased.

"Hey!" Connor poked her side playfully and she squirmed, pushing his hand away with a laugh.

Cynthia went into her room and returned a few minutes later with two photos albums in her arms. "See, these are pictures of both of you in the hospital just after you were born," she said, placing them on the table and flipping them open.

"Why did we have to go to the hospital if we're not sick?" Connor asked.

"There's a special part of the hospital that is for mothers giving birth, not for sick people."

"What happened to Connor?" Zoe asked, pointing to one of the pictures of him in the NICU. Cynthia's brows knit together at the painful memories—the hope, the fear, the pain of seeing her little one fight to stay alive, hooked up to tubes and machines.

"That," she began, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "That was the NICU, which is short for the neonatal intensive care unit. Connor was there because he was born too early, so he was very small and the doctors needed a special place to take care of him."

"Why was I born too early?"

"I don't know, sometimes some babies are born earlier than others, and we don't always know why."

"So is that why I'm still smaller than Zo-zo?" he continued.

Cynthia chuckled. "We don't know, it could be a reason, but it also might not be. But it doesn't matter, as long as you're happy and healthy, right!"

"Right!" he cheered enthusiastically.

"And in Star Wars, Yoda says that size matters not!" Zoe reminded him, failing comically at an impersonation of Yoda's voice, causing all of them to explode into laughter.

"Oh, did Daddy and I tell you that we'll be finding out the gender of the baby tomorrow?" Cynthia remembered.

"What's gender?" Zoe asked.

"It's boy or girl," Connor cut in quickly before Cynthia could reply, eager to show off his knowledge.

"Oh, okay," Zoe nodded. "I hope it's a girl."

"And I hope it's a boy," he countered.

Cynthia smiled at both of them, a hand resting lightly on her stomach. "Well, we'll find out tomorrow," she smiled.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **please comment and let me know what you think of this chapter! or hmu on tumblr (thewickedverkaiking) and i may or may not give you a sneak peek at upcoming chapters...**

 **next chapter will hopefully be longer! sorry please bear with me as i get through this writing slump...**

 **also, do you think the baby is a boy or girl? :D**


	17. push away the unimaginable

**summary: in which connor and zoe have their first brush with death**

 **to all of you who were concerned last chapter. welp, your concerns were justified.**

 **tw: death (miscarriage)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Connor and Zoe were nearly ready to explode from excitement when Larry picked them up from their respective activities the following day. Throughout the drive home, they pestered him repeatedly as to whether their new sibling was a boy or girl. He didn't answer, but instead drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel and said that they should wait until they got home and could "talk about this with Mummy."

When they reached home, Larry sent them to their rooms to grab a fresh change of clothes, and he went to get Cynthia from the master bedroom. When the four of them gathered downstairs, Cynthia and Larry were sitting at the table, expressions drawn and serious. Connor and Zoe glanced at each other, slightly unnerved and confused.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Connor finally asked, a little quietly.

Larry cleared his throat. "Kids, sit down. Mummy and I need to tell you something."

They exchanged looks again as they slid into their seats.

"Kids," Cynthia started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "When we went to the doctor to find the baby's gender, we… the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat."

Zoe frowned. "So does that mean it's a boy or girl?" she asked, not comprehending the situation.

"Zoe," Larry said, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. "Sweetie, it's not that… we lost the baby."

"Lost?" Connor cried in consternation. "How do you lose it? It's in Mummy's tummy!"

Cynthia let out a strangled sob as Larry finally said, "Connor, Zoe, the baby died."

They froze for a moment, before Zoe echoed blankly, "Died?"

"Why did it die?" Connor asked in distress.

"We don't know," Larry continued dejectedly. "Sometimes babies die before they are born—that's called a miscarriage."

"But why do they die? They're not old yet," Zoe countered.

"Zoe, it's not just old people who die. Babies are sometimes miscarried, and we don't know why."

They sat together in silence for a while, before Connor asked in a much more subdued tone, "So, was it a boy or girl?"

"It was a boy," Larry replied. "I'm sorry, Connor."

Connor got up from his chair, pushing past his parents and ran up to his bedroom, where he flung himself on his bed, sobbing. Several moments later, Skywalker bounded in, whining in concern and licking his hands and face in an attempt to comfort him. He buried his face in her fur as he cried. Then he heard Larry's footsteps coming down the corridor.

"Connor, what's wrong?" he said, evidently worried as he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Connor.

"It's not fair," Connor choked out as he continued to sob. "I prayed for a baby brother, and it was a boy, so why did he die?"

"I don't know why, Connor," Larry said sadly, stroking Connor's hair.

Before he could say anymore, Cynthia appeared in the doorway, tear streaks still fresh on her face. "Oh, Connor," she murmured, as she took in his expression and rushed to envelope him in a hug. He clung to her for a minute, neither of them saying a word, while Larry shifted slightly to the side of the bed to make room for both of them.

"Why do some people have to die, Mummy?" Connor finally asked as he brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. Larry gave him a tissue as Zoe joined them on the bed.

"I don't know, Connor, sometimes miscarriages happen when the baby is not healthy enough to be born, that could be one reason…" Cynthia trailed off as her voice broke and she dabbed at the corner of her eyes. Larry put an arm around her.

"So is baby in heaven?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, he is," Larry responded, using his free hand to stroke her hair comfortingly. "He's your angel brother now."

"So do I still get to be his big sister?" she asked hopefully. He nodded at her, attempting to smile but not really succeeding.

"But I don't want an angel brother, I want a born brother," Connor said sadly.

"I know, me too, Connor. But sometimes these things happen in life, and sometimes… well, sometimes you just have to be strong, okay?" Larry said, as he gave each child a kiss on their forehead before leading Cynthia back to their bedroom.

Connor spent the rest of his afternoon lying in his bed, staring at the glow stars on the ceiling and absent-mindedly running his hand over Skywalker's fur while she curled up next to him on top of the duvet.

It wasn't fair.

It just wasn't fair.

He'd prayed so hard for a baby brother and his baby brother died. And he wouldn't get to see what the baby looked like, and he wouldn't get to play with him or help to take care of him. It was not fair at all, and it made Connor angry.

And a little scared.

What was it like to be dead? Was it painful? Did you know if you were going to die? Did the baby know he was going to die?

What if someone else died?

His eyes darted to Skywalker. What if she died? What if Larry died? Or Cynthia?

Or worse—what if Zoe died? What is something really, really bad happened and then she died?

Panic seizing him, he leapt off his bed and dashed over to her room. She was sitting on the floor, arranging the miniature furniture in her dollhouse. She looked up at him, a little surprised at him bursting through the door, and he honestly felt a little silly. Of course nothing had happened! He was just imagining everything.

"Do you want to play with me?" she finally offered, holding out a figure towards him. "You can be Mr. Rabbit."

"Okay," he obliged, setting the figure along with several others at the little dining table. "They're having tea, and after that they'll play in the garden."

.

.

.

Cynthia was absent from dinner that night, and Larry was the one who tucked Connor into Zoe into bed.

When he came into Connor's room, Connor was sitting in bed, wrapping his duvet tightly around his small form. "Daddy, what happens if someone else dies?" he asked, his eyes wide and terrified. "What if I die, too? When I'm sleeping?"

"Nobody is going to die tonight, Connor," Larry reassured him. "You're going to be alright."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Connor. Don't worry about this, Daddy will always protect you."

"And protect Mummy and Zoe, too?"

"And Mummy and Zoe," Larry smiled.

"Pinky promise?" Connor asked, extending his hand.

"Pinky promise."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **UHHH PLEASE DONT KILL ME**

 **anyway im out of pre-written chapters so um please comment? and motivate me to write? yeah just scream at me in the comments or on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking)**

 **once again, PLEASE DONT KILL ME**


	18. don't have to see what's really there

**summary: in which avoidance is an effective coping mechanism for loss**

 **larry character development?**  
 **it's more likely than you think!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Mummy, wake up, it's time for breakfast," Connor called, crawling onto his parents' bed. "Daddy's making breakfast." Wrapped up in her duvets, Cynthia didn't respond. "Mummy," he whined, pulling at the covers. "Mummy, wake up."

The bedroom door creaked open. "Connor, what are you doing?" Larry asked in a low voice.

"Something's wrong with Mummy, she's not waking up," Connor said, beginning to panic.

"Shh… Mummy needs some time to be by herself, why don't we go have some breakfast?" Larry suggested, leading him out of the room.

"But why? Is there something wrong with her?" Connor pressed.

"No, there's nothing wrong," Larry said. "She's just feeling sad about the baby."

Connor's shoulders drooped slightly. "I'm sad about the baby, too."

"I know," Larry said sympathetically. "Do you want to do something fun today?"

"Ooh, what?"

"I was thinking we could go to the orchard, and then get some ice-cream at A La Mode. How does that sound?"

"Oh, yes!" Connor grinned, brightening.

He set out the bowls of food and water for Skywalker, while Larry and Zoe set the table for breakfast. Larry soon came out with a plate of hard-boiled eggs and slightly charred toast. "Daddy… can't cook as well as Mummy, sorry about that," he said a little sheepishly as they sat down to eat.

"That's okay," they laughed, buttering the toast and giggling at the burnt corners.

When they were done, Larry took a tray of food up to Cynthia's bedroom for her, and Connor skipped over to where Skywalker was finishing her food. "You wanna go out?"

At his words, she let out an excited bark and dashed towards the front door, fetching her red leash from the hook and returning to drop it at Connor's feet. He picked it up. "You finish your food first," he firmly instructed. "Then we'll go out."

They spent the rest of the late spring morning at the apple orchard, picking four leaf clovers, splashing in the pond with the ducks, and riding two rounds around the orchard on the hayrides.

"I'm so… hungry…" Connor panted after a game of fetch with Skywalker. "I want to eat something."

"Shall we get lunch? I know a nice fish and chips shop not too far from here."

"Yay! Fish and chips!"

"Let's go, I'm hungry!"

.

.

.

"Do we get ice cream after this?" Zoe asked as they sat down on a bench with their fish and chips.

"Yes, but I have a surprise for you two first." Larry said with a mysterious smile.

"What is it?" Connor demanded eagerly.

"If I tell you now, it'll spoil the surprise."

"Aww, please tell us, Daddy… please?" they begged.

"No, he insisted. "You'll find out soon enough. Just be patient."

They hurriedly finished their lunch, and then they piled back into the car. Larry turned onto the highway and within a few minutes, despite the children's excitement, the exhaustion from their morning's activity overtook them, and they began to doze off—Connor first, followed by Zoe. Larry turned the radio on, turning the volume dial down low, as Skywalker stuck her head out of the car window, taking in the sights and smells.

After nearly an hour of driving, Larry finally announced, "Wake up, kids, we're here!"

"Hmm…?" Connor groggily opened his eyes as Zoe stretched and nearly smacked him across the face with the back of her hand. "Hey!"

"Where are we?" she asked, ignoring him.

"Remember how last week you were asking what an amusement park looked like? Well, I brought us to one."

"Oh my goodness!" they screamed ecstatically as they unbuckled their seat belts and scrambled out of the car, rushing in the direction of the ticket booth.

Larry cleared his throat. "Connor Murphy, I think you forgot someone," he announced good-naturedly.

Connor turned to see his father holding Skywalker by the leash. He blushed. "Oh, right." He sheepishly took the leash from Larry. "Do you want to go to the amusement park, Skye?" she barked appreciatively.

They waited impatiently as Larry purchased their entry tickets and finally they entered, nearly ready to burst from all the built-up anticipation. "What do you want to do first?" Larry asked.

"The merry-go-round!" Connor exclaimed.

"No! The Ferris Wheel!"

"We'll go on the Ferris Wheel first, since it's closer," Larry decided.

"Wow, it's super big," Connor observed as they stood in line. "It must feel super, super high up there."

They got onto one of the gondolas, and the ride ascended slowly. "Wow! It's so high up!" Zoe exclaimed as she tip-toed to lean over the railing. Connor stayed in his seat, slightly nervous about the height. The gondolas swayed slightly in the breeze and he wondered if it would tip them out.

"It gives my tummy a funny feeling," he mumbled, griping Skywalker a little tighter for fear she might fall out.

"I can see so far!" Zoe continued. "I can see all of the amusement park!"

"The weather is lovely today," Larry commented as the cool breeze ruffled their hair.

"I think I smell something yummy," Connor said, as the Ferris Wheel headed back down.

Larry scanned the fairgrounds. "Oh, see, there's a hotdog stand there, and there's popcorn too," he pointed towards their right.

"Can we buy food there later, Daddy?"

"Of course," he said as the ride ended and they got off.

"Let's go on the merry-go-round now!" Connor squealed, making a beeline for it. He and Zoe rode three rounds on the merry-go-round, picking a different horse every time, as Larry waited for them with Skywalker.

"That was so fun!" they exclaimed breathlessly as they got off the ride. "What's next?"

"There's a little rollercoaster there, you've never been on one before, how about we give that a try?" Larry said.

"It looks scary…" Connor said hesitantly.

"No, it's fun, you should both try it. It's not scary, it's the one for kids." Larry urged.

"Okay," Zoe agreed. "I want to try it."

"That's the spirit!"

They got into line, as Connor nervously watched the rollercoaster race around the track, as everyone screamed their lungs out.

"Why are they screaming?" Zoe asked.

"Because it's fun!" Larry replied. Connor didn't believe him.

Most of the people riding were children, and one little girl came off crying loudly, which only made Connor more concerned. A man's cap flew off when the rollercoaster went around the bend, making both Connor and Zoe laugh.

Connor tugged at Larry's sleeve. "Can Zoe go first?"

"Yeah, I want to go first," Zoe said before Larry could reply.

Connor waited with Skywalker as Larry and Zoe got onto one of the cars near the back. The rollercoaster started slowly, but then it zoomed down the hill and around a bend. Connor waved to them, but Zoe was screaming and Larry was laughing and holding on to his hat so he guessed that they didn't see him. The ride was over soon enough, and Zoe raced towards Connor, her hair windblown as she exclaimed,

"That was so fun, Connor! You should try it!"

"But you were screaming," he pointed out skeptically.

She shrugged, retying her messy ponytail. "Everyone was screaming, so I decided to scream, too."

"Connor, your turn, are you ready buddy?" Larry said.

"Okay…" he replied apprehensively, reluctantly handing Skywalker's leash to Zoe.

This time, he and Larry got into the front car—Connor could see the orange tracks hugging the ground and then heading up the hill. The ride lurched forward and he tightened his grip on the metal bar in front of him. Going up was fine, the hill wasn't very steep and the rollercoaster was slow and the clickety-clack was almost soothing. He could see the blue sky and white clouds stretching out in front of them, and maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all.

But then the rollercoaster reached the top of the hill and shot down the track, and Connor decided that he didn't like it. At all. It was too fast and he felt like they were going to shoot off the rails and he buried his face in Larry's lap. He could faintly register the sound of people screaming behind them but the wind was roaring in his ears and then suddenly, they jerked to a stop.

"The ride's over, Connor," Larry said with a laugh, pushing back the safety bar. "Did you like it?"

"No…" he mumbled, shakily stepping off.

Zoe skipped towards them. "Did you like it, Connor?"

"No, it was too scary," he muttered, moving to sit down on a nearby bench.

She frowned slightly. "But it was so fun!" She said, then turned back to Larry. "Can I go again?"

.

.

.

After filling themselves up with hotdog, popcorn, and cotton candy from the amusement park, they headed to A La Mode to stuff themselves with ice-cream, and finally headed home, Connor and Zoe stumbling up to their bedrooms, exhausted from all the fun and games. Larry watched them go, wistfully noting the smiles and laughter on their faces, grateful that they could temporarily forget the sad events of the past two days.

Because this was the only way he knew how to cope. This was the only way he knew to help his children.

And that was to avoid the situation, and pretend that maybe, just maybe, it didn't happen.

And to pretend that everything was okay.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **hi hi so school fucked me up this week and i literally just finished this chapter five minutes before posting so please forgive me if it's not well-written. i'll try to stay on top of writing this fic. thank you so much for all the comments! they're very motivating :D**

 **anyway, hmu on tumblr (thewickedverkaiking) or comment here and tell me what you liked about this chapter! constructive criticism is much appreciated 3**


	19. they had found each other

**summary: in which connor finds a friend** **sup bitches have some fluff** **(chapter title from matilda the musical)** **.** **.** **.**

It was a little less than two weeks after Connor's eighth birthday, and he had just arrived at the dance studio for his ballet lessons. He was warming up and practicing his splits when Mrs. Shapiro entered with a boy behind her, who looked like he was around Connor's age.

"Connor, I would like you to meet someone," Mrs. Shapiro said with a warm smile. "This is Luke, he's your age, and he's been take dance here for the past couple years, but he only just started taking lessons on Fridays too. I thought you two boys might want to get to know each other, since there aren't many boys your age in the studio." Connor brightened at her words. Another boy who did dance too! "Well, there's just under ten minutes to class, I'll leave you two to talk and get to know each other," Mrs. Shapiro added as she briskly swished next door to supervise another class.

"Hi," Connor shyly greeted.

"Hi," the other boy—Luke—smiled back. He was slightly taller than Connor but just as skinny, with blonde curls and blue eyes.

"You're eight?" Connor asked, just to make sure.

Luke slid down into a split. "Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. "Well, almost. I turn eight next month. My birthday is the first of February."

"Mine is January fifth," Connor replied.

"How long have you been dancing?" Luke asked as he continued stretching.

"Since I was five, you?"

"Since I was two."

Connor's jaw dropped. "Two?" he nearly spluttered. "Wow… that's really young. That's like a toddler."

"Yeah," Luke laughed at h is expression, but not unkindly. "My big sister danced too, so my mom let me join. She said it was more for babysitting me than anything else, but apparently, I loved it."

"So is your sister a ballerina?"

"No, she did jazz but she quit two years ago."

"Why?"

"She said she was too busy with school and stuff."

"My sister dances ballet too."

"How old is she?"

"She's almost seven. Her birthday is in February too, like yours."

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but just at that moment, Mrs. Shapiro reentered the room. "Let's get this class started, boys. Luke, do you want to show Connor the number you've been working on for competition?"

"Okay, Mrs. Shapiro," Luke replied, getting up from the floor. Connor scooted over to the corner so he wouldn't be getting in the way.

The music started and Connor couldn't take his eyes off Luke. His leaps were effortless, he nailed all his turns, his feet were pointed, and his flexibility was impressive. When Luke had finished, Mrs. Shapiro nodded in approval and smiled, and Connor clapped loudly.

"What did you think, Connor?" she asked, eyeing him.

"He was really good!" Connor enthusiastically said. Luke flashed him a bright smile.

"Well, what could he do to improve?" Mrs. Shapiro continued.

"Um, I don't know?" Connor had thought the dance was pretty much perfect, but then, Mrs. Shapiro was a teacher, so she probably had noticed the things Luke had done wrong. "I thought it was really good."

Mrs. Shapiro nodded, then turned back to Luke. "Overall, really well done, much better than what I saw on Tuesday. Just remember to keep your body straight all the time, engage your core more when you pirouette. And use your face—you have a great personality offstage, I want to see that when you're dancing."

Luke nodded, and Mrs. Shapiro said to Connor, "Would you like to show us your dance?"

Connor got up slightly reluctantly, feeling woefully inadequate after watching Luke perform. But he tried his best and when he was done, Luke clapped loudly and cheered. "That was really good, Connor!"

"Thanks!" he beamed.

.

.

.

"How was class today, honey?" Cynthia asked as she prepared dinner that night.

"It was great! I made a friend!"

"A friend?" Cynthia repeated with a surprised smile. "Wow, that's awesome, Con!" She looked so happy he thought that she might cry.

"Yeah, he's really nice. And Mrs. Shapiro put us in the same class so I'm not the only boy anymore."

Cynthia smile grew even wider. "That's wonderful."

He nodded, he knew that she had been concerned about him, because he was so painfully quiet and shy. And while Zoe was the charismatic social butterfly, always going out with friends for birthday parties or sleepovers, Connor was much happier reading a book by himself in his room. At school, he kept mostly to himself at lunch or recess, and other than occasional squabble with another child on the playground, he didn't like to interact much. Cynthia had tried time and time again to sign him up for more activities that might allow him to meet new people, but to no avail.

"Do you need any help?" Connor asked, gesturing towards the pan.

"I'm fine, sweetie, thank you. Oh, do you want to invite your friend over one of these days? Also, what's his name? Is he your age? I would love to get to meet him, and maybe his mom."

Connor smiled slightly at his mom's overeager barrage of questions. "His name is Luke, and he's almost eight—his birthday is in February. I can ask him if he wants to come next week when I see him at class."

"Oh okay, please do that, I'd love to have him over soon."

"Okay, thanks, Mom," he mumbled, skipping out to the living room to join Zoe in front of the television.

.

.

.

"My mom wants to know if you can come to our house for, like, a playdate," Connor told Luke the following week.

"Really?" Luke asked excitedly.

"Yeah, she was wondering when you're free."

"I think I'm free on Monday, let me ask my mom," Luke said, running out of the classroom. He reappeared a couple minutes later, beaming. "Yeah! My mom said Monday is fine! And she needs your address."

"Oh, right," Connor dug through his dance bag before pulling out a slightly crumpled Post-It note with his mother's handwriting on it. "Here."

Luke took it and tucked it into his dance bag, then turned back to Connor, grinning. "I'm so excited."

Just then, the door swung open and Mrs. Shapiro entered. "What's going on?" she asked, noting the bright smiles on both their faces.

"Nothing," they answered in unison.

"Alright then, let's get this class started."

.

.

.

Connor and Luke greeted each other at the door with broad smiles on Monday.

The tall blonde lady who stood behind Luke introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Sarah Davidson, Luke's mom." Connor could tell that Luke got his big blue eyes from her.

"I'm Cynthia Murphy, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Cynthia was almost rambling, eager to make a good first impression. "Connor, why don't you show Luke your room? We'll be in the living room—I've already prepared lunch so please come down to eat in half an hour."

"Okay, mom."

"Your house is really big," Luke commented admiringly as they started up the stairs.

Connor wasn't too sure what to say to that, so he just mumbled a "thanks".

They entered Connor's room. "You have a lot of books."

Connor blushed a little. Just last week, Larry had mentioned that he should stop reading so much and go outdoors to play more sports. "Yeah… I like to read," he coughed awkwardly.

To his relief, Luke didn't seem to find that strange at all. "What's your favorite book?"

Connor chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "I like Narnia, I guess."

Luke hummed appreciatively. "I read a bit of that, because my sister said it was good. Until the third book, then it got boring, so I stopped."

"You should finish them. _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ is my favorite!"

"Hey! Is this Marvel?" Luke suddenly exclaimed, pulling a superhero comic off the bottom shelf.

Connor nodded. "Yeah, my dad got the Spiderman series for me as a Christmas present."

Luke plopped down on Connor's beanbag and flipped the comic open. Connor read it over his shoulder for a few minutes, but feeling awkward at the silence, finally broke it by asking, "Do you wanna play something?

Luke thought for a moment. s"Do you have Legos?"

"Yeah!" Connor dragged out a large box and dumped its contents on the floor. "Do you want to build a house?"

"Let's build a car first."

"Okay."

"Boys, lunch in ten minutes!" Cynthia reminded them as she appeared in the doorway, Luke's mother just behind her. "Are you guys having fun?"

"So much fun," Luke grinned as he snapped two red bricks together.

Mrs. Davidson turned to Cynthia. "Thank you for having us over, I'm so glad that Luke has a friend. He was getting picked on at school because of the fact that he did dance, so the past year has just been… quite difficult for him."

Cynthia smiled a little sadly, as they watched the boys animatedly discuss how they should design the Lego car. "No worries, it's just that Connor's a really quiet kid. I'm also really glad he met Luke."

Connor looked up and noticed his mother still lingering in the doorway. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, realizing how joyful and excited he looked as he ducked his head back down to continue playing with Luke.

"Don't forget—lunch in ten minutes," she gently reminded them, as she turned to head back down the stairs, leaving them chattering and giggling with each other.

 **.** **.** **.** **sneak peek of the next chapter: printer incident**  
 **(sorry...after the fluff comes the angst...you're welcome tho)** **anyway, comment, subscribe, share, whatever. or follow me on tumblr (thewickedverkaiking)**  
 **constructive criticism is always appreciated!** **until next week :)**


	20. slippery slopes

**summary: in which we have the infamous printer incident from 2nd grade**

 **angst without fluff? more likely than you imagine**

 **tw: hints at suicide ideation?**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Connor, I'm asking you for the last time: what exactly happened in class today?" Cynthia demanded from the driver's seat of the car. They were pulling into the driveway of their home and Connor was still sobbing hysterically. Zoe awkwardly stared out of the window.

Cynthia parked the car into the garage, letting Zoe into the house first before opening the car door on Connor's side. She picked him up—even though he was getting to the point where he was nearly too large to be carried—and set him down on the kitchen stool.

"Connor," she sighed, looking extremely disappointed in hi, which only made him want to cry harder. "Can you please tell me what happened so I know both sides of the story?"

He hiccupped loudly. "But I don't… want to," he choked out, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

Cynthia pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Fine, Connor, go up to your room. Your dad is coming home soon and he'll deal with you."

Connor dragged his feet up to his bedroom, the sickening knot in his stomach twisting tighter every moment.

He hadn't meant to do it, he really hadn't. He had just been so angry that everything had gone blurry and it was like he'd lost control of his own body. He'd burst into tears once he'd realized what he had actually done. He really, really hadn't meant to, and he was so sorry.

He heard the front door open and shut downstairs as Larry came home, and he didn't need to listen to know that Cynthia was most likely telling Larry all about what had happened, and what they should do about it. After a few agonizing minutes, Cynthia called him down for dinner, and the silence at the table was painfully awkward. Cynthia and Larry wore grave, serious looks and Zoe's eyes darted between them and Connor.

When the meal was over, Cynthia quickly cleared the plates into the kitchen, as Larry cleared his throat and turned to Zoe. "Zo, do you mind playing by yourself? Mummy and I need to talk to Connor a while." Zoe nodded, shooting Connor a look of concern and sympathy as she left the table.

Cynthia returned to the table, she and Larry taking a seat opposite Connor, who was suddenly finding the grains of the hardwood floor very interesting.

"Connor," Larry began a little stiffly. "Why did you throw a printer in class today?"

"I didn't throw it," Connor protested.

Cynthia frowned. "That's what Mrs. Gilbert said you did."

"I didn't throw it," he repeated.

Larry sighed. "Well, then what did you do?"

"I… I pushed it off the table," Connor admitted sullenly. "There's a difference."

"That's not the point here," Larry said sternly. "The issue here is why did you throw—or push—the printer in the first place?"

"Because Mrs. G didn't let me become the line leader."

"But did you have to react that way?"

"No," It came out like a choke. He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant to do it. He had just been so, so angry. He knew he wasn't supposed to react that way.

"Why didn't Mrs. G let you be line leader?" Cynthia pressed.

"Because she thought my solar system project was bad."

"What do you mean? What solar system project?" Cynthia looked confused.

"We had to do the solar system and paste the paper planets onto the black paper because that was space. And then we needed to put the silver glitter glue for the constellations. But the glitter glue was almost empty and I didn't have the strength to squeeze it out so it got messy. And the constellations didn't look nice."

"And that was Mrs. G's reason?" Larry asked skeptically. "Because it didn't look nice?"

"Well, not really," Connor squeaked. Larry gestured for him to continue. "Mrs. G said it looked ugly but I said I thought it looked fine. Then she said that I shouldn't talk back to her and that she was going to make me line leader that day but not anymore. Then I got upset and… and I pushed the printer."

"But why did you tell her you thought it was fine when you said it was messy in the first place? That's not very truthful," Cynthia chided.

"Because she hurt my feelings, so I got angry," Connor argued, beginning to tear up again.

"That doesn't excuse your behavior, Connor. She is your teacher and you should not disrespect her," Larry paused for a beat before continuing, "And you need to work on controlling your temper. I don't want to ever hear of something like this happening again, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry," Connor apologized, hanging his head.

"Where's your solar system project?" Cynthia inquired.

"I threw it away at school."

"Why?"

"Because it was ugly," he murmured, looking embarrassed. "I didn't want people to see it."

"I'm sorry about the project, Connor," Cynthia said sympathetically, "But maybe you can be line leader again another time."

Connor swiped angrily at the tears that had sprung up. "No, I can't," he cried, "Because Mrs. G always doesn't want me to become line leader because she doesn't like me and after today she will never let me become line leader ever again!"

"What do you mean Mrs. G doesn't like you?" Cynthia asked, a little concerned.

"She always skips over me for line leader even though some of the other kids have gone twice. And she doesn't like me because I always finish the homework in class too quickly and then I draw on the side of the worksheet because I'm bored but it's not my fault because the homework is too easy."

"We'll talk to Mrs. G about that, alright?" Cynthia reassured him before continuing more sternly, "But your father and I have discussed today's events and you know that you need to face the consequences for what you did in class." He nodded dully, fidgeting uncomfortably as she added, "You're not getting any television for two weeks, we're confiscating your Marvel comics, and when you go back to school after your suspension is over, you'll have to apologize to Mrs. Gilbert for what happened, alright?"

"Yes, mom."

He deserved it. He deserved it.

He knew he deserved it.

He didn't feel like playing with Zoe anymore, and he was afraid that since he was already upset he might get mad again and hurt her accidentally. So he headed up to his room to finish his homework, even though there wasn't much point since he was suspended for the next two days anyway. But he felt that by doing it he could temporarily take his mind off the day's awful events, and pretend that maybe everything was still normal for a while.

He was halfway through his science worksheet when he heard the commotion. First it was raised voices, then a kitchen drawer that was slammed too hard, followed by more shouting. Through the wall they shared, he could hear Zoe shuffling around in her room, then her door shut. He knew that she always hated it when their parents fought, and she usually tried to shut out the noise by closing her bedroom door.

Against his better judgement, he slipped quietly out into the corridor to get a better idea of what they were arguing about. Well, it had to be about him, what else would it be? He knew that he shouldn't be listening to his parents' arguments, they only made him feel worse, but at the same time he was curious enough that he found himself peering through the staircase railings at what was going on downstairs in the kitchen.

He couldn't see much from his position—although that meant that they couldn't see him either—but he could clearly hear every word that was being spoken.

 _"I don't know what to do with him, Cynthia, I really don't! This is getting out of hand!"_

 _"Maybe… just be patient, it's a one-time thing."_

 _"These kinds of issues aren't just 'one-time things', they're the signs of some other underlying issue."_

 _"He was upset by the teacher, that's all. It happens to the best of us."_

 _"But throwing a printer?"_

 _"I don't know, Larry. Sometimes kids get worked up and throw tantrums…"_

 _"This is different, he could have hurt somebody! And what if he starts doing this around the house? What if he hurts Zoe?"_ Connor felt his chest constrict a little at those words—apparently, he wasn't the only one who was concerned about that.

 _"Larry, you're being ridiculous."_

 _"Cynthia, I'm not—"_

 _"He's a child, he's not having anger issues or anything!"_

 _"If we don't start disciplining him, what's going to happen when he's older? It's going to be just a slippery slope from here—do you want him to end up in prison or something next time?"_

Connor didn't feel like listening anymore. He felt a little sick. He didn't want to go to prison when he got older. He hadn't meant to throw the printer. He just became angry, and he didn't know what to do with the anger, and sometimes that anger came out of his body and made him throw things, even when he knew that it was wrong.

He went back into his room, kept his books and homework, and climbed into bed.

Connor had been to a cemetery before—there was one right behind their church. At a young age, he had asked his parents what the headstones were, and they had told him it marked the places where dead people were buried. It wasn't until he was a couple years older that he realized that there were actually people, real people—people who had once been living and breathing like him—buried there. It had given him the creeps, as he wondered what it must be like to be lying cold and dead six feet under the ground, what it must be like dying one day and never waking up for the next.

But tonight, as he turned out the lights and drew the covers over his head, he realized that he wouldn't actually mind going to bed and never waking up again.

He wished he didn't have to wake up again.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **pls don't kill me**  
 **thx**

 **anyway comment, like, subscribe, or hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking**

 **i can't promise it get betters but just ... hang on?**

 **also very short story here but the incident of this solar system project is based on something that happened to me when i was like 5 at a montessori class, im not the artsiest person so basically my shooting stars/constellations did not turn out well?**

 **although i still stubbornly insist that the teacher really didn't have to tell me so**

 **(i didnt throw a printer tho)**

 **oh well**


	21. aftershocks

**chapter summary: the printer incident, part ii**

 **chapter title from next to normal**

 **tw: bullying**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

After the printer incident, what few friends—or rather, acquaintances—that Connor had at school virtually deserted him. On his first day back after suspension, he was met with stares and excited chatter as he walked through the school gates.

His cheeks flamed as one boy asked, "Are you going to throw the printer again, Murphy?" as he got his things from his locker.

"Go away," Connor muttered sullenly, slamming the locker door shut.

"And what if I don't?" he sneered. "You'll throw a printer at me?"

"I said go away!" Connor glared, shoving past him angrily and storming into the classroom, dumping his bag under his chair. He put his head down on the table and ignored everyone until the teacher came in.

At the next class, Mrs. G didn't seem happy at all that he was back, and Connor himself was feeling worse every passing minute. Recess, which he had always looked forward to, was absolute misery. All the children avoided him, as though he were some kind of dangerous animal that might attack them. He heard the word "printer" tossed around multiple times, and the children giggled behind his back while keeping their distance.

The last straw came when he was waiting for his turn on the slide, and the girl in front of him nearly fell over herself scrambling down the slide as her sister hollered, "Be careful, Connor might push you off!"

Connor had stalked back into the main school building and sat in the classroom until recess was over, not feeling like he wanted to play or eat his lunch anymore.

Naturally, word had been going around the school, and it wasn't too long before Samuel Harris heard about it, too. They weren't in the same grade, so they only saw each other in the hallways every now and then, but when Connor hung out with his family at the Harris' house, Samuel seemed to delight in teasing him about it. Fortunately, the last time it happened, Zoe had yelled at him to "shut up or I'll tell your parents that you're being mean again" and he'd ignored Connor for the rest of the night.

Connor started hanging out with Luke more and more. Luke was the only person who didn't seem to change perceptions about him. He had told Luke about what had happened, but Luke simply shrugged and said, "It's okay, you just got angry. I know you didn't mean it. Anyway, your teacher doesn't sound very nice." And he'd gone back to playing with their collection of matchbox cars. Connor couldn't have agreed more with him. He felt that maybe Luke understood him.

He knew that Luke was bullied at his school, too, except it was because he was a dancer.

"Don't tell people that you dance," Luke had warned him sadly. "Especially not ballet. Everyone'll call you gay. Or girly." And Connor had taken his advice. He'd seen Luke come to dance class with a bruise on his cheek after a bigger boy had pushed him into the lockers.

Mrs. Shapiro had noticed too, and after class they saw her talking with Mrs. Davidson, both women's expressions serious.

A few weeks later, Luke was at Connor's house, the two boys throwing a Frisbee back and forth in the backyard. Out of the blue, Luke mentioned, "Did you know that my mom is going to homeschool me?"

"Homeschool? What's that?" Connor asked as Skywalker snatched the Frisbee out of his hand and bounded off. "Skye, give that back!" She whined reluctantly and dropped it at his feet. He tossed it back towards Luke.

"She's going to teach me at home," Luke explained, catching the Frisbee. "So I don't have to go to school anymore, because I keep getting bullied. And Mrs. Shapiro said that it would also give me more time to focus on dance."

"You're so lucky!" Connor exclaimed, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. "I wish my mom would homeschool me. I hate school."

"You should ask her," Luke said matter-of-factly.

"I guess," he shrugged, "Maybe later. Do you want to play with my remote-controlled cars?"

"Sure! I bet I'm faster!"

"Bet you aren't!"

.

.

.

"Mom, can you homeschool me?" Connor asked Cynthia later that afternoon.

"What makes you ask that, Connor?" she asked in surprise, looking up from a recipe she had been reading.

"Because Luke's mom started homeschooling him and he says he likes it much more than going to school."

Cynthia's brows were knit together in thought and she put her cookbook down on the table before cautiously replying, "Connor, homeschooling isn't for everyone. It's a very big decision, especially for the parents, and maybe Mrs. Davidson is capable of teaching Luke. But I'm not, Connor… I'm not a teacher or anything like that. Also, he's planning to be a dancer, so this will fit his schedule better than yours, and it'll give him the flexibility to train. You're not becoming a dancer, so the situation is slightly different."

Connor wanted to say that he, too, wanted to be a dancer, but instead he said, "The kids at school are mean to me. I don't want to go to school anymore."

Her expression softened. "Oh honey, is it because of the printer incident?" He nodded glumly. "Don't worry, I promise they'll forget about it by the time the school year ends, maybe even sooner. Kids forget things quickly. You're going to be fine, okay?" She patted his cheek and he turned away so that she wouldn't see his dejection.

Of course she wouldn't homeschool him. He would probably do something bad again when he got angry, just like the printer incident, and then he would ruin the entire homeschooling process. Luke could get homeschooled because he did everything well, and he was the kind of boy all teachers liked.

Unlike him.

And despite Cynthia's reassurance that the issues at school would improve, they, of course, did not. Even on the last day of the school year, he was still being called "printer boy" and nobody wanted to play with him on the playground or sit next to him during lunchtime. It took all the self-control and willpower that he had not to cry or lash out in front of them, because he knew that it would only make everything worse for himself.

Mrs. G seemed to prefer to treat him as if he didn't exist—she didn't call on him in class, even if he was one of the only kids who raised his hand. As he had predicted, she never made him line leader either. It stung, and although she wasn't actively picking on him like some of his classmates did, it sometimes felt nearly as hurtful as the taunts and pushes that were thrown his way. He wasn't sure why, but maybe it was because it made him feel invisible, and like no one actually cared about him.

He kept trying not to cry about it at home, because Larry didn't like it, and it hurt Zoe and Cynthia to know that he was sad, but sometimes the pain was just too much. There were days when he came home from school in tears, as Zoe angrily complained to their parents about how mean his classmates had been. Cynthia would hug him, and then Zoe would try to distract him by asking him to play with her, while Larry would remind him that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never break me". It sounded nice to Connor at first, but it didn't really help.

Sometimes he felt that maybe a broken bone would be less painful.

Even Mrs. Shapiro began to notice the shift in his behavior. It wasn't that he didn't love dance anymore, he still did, but after spending an entire morning at school, he felt emotionally exhausted and kept stumbling over all the moves that should have been easy for him, which only made him more frustrated with himself.

One Friday afternoon, Luke was stuck at home, sick with the flu, which meant that only Connor was with Mrs. Shapiro for ballet lesson. Towards the end of the class, she gently asked, "Connor, I've noticed you seem a little… off lately. You're not usually like this. Is something wrong?"

"Not really," he muttered, picking at his fingernails. She didn't respond, so he continued hesitantly, "It's just that the kids at school are mean."

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Connor," she said, giving him a quick hug. It took him a little by surprise; nobody outside of his family hugged him, most definitely not a teacher. "I know about children being mean. School can be difficult, Luke has told me about it so many times. And I used to be picked on at school when I was little, mostly because I wasn't a very good student." She gave a weak laugh, shaking her head a little at the memory.

"Really?" he blinked in surprise. "But you're a teacher."

She chuckled. "I was good at dance, that's why I became a dance teacher, but I wasn't good at schoolwork. I didn't do well in my classes, so needless to say, the teachers weren't very pleased with me."

"I… my grades are fine, I think?" Connor tried to explain, he felt that maybe Mrs. Shapiro wasn't getting it. It wasn't about being good at schoolwork. It'd been something stupid that he did just because he was angry that he now regretted, but that no one let him forget. Which Mrs. Shapiro probably won't be able to understand because she wasn't as stupid as him. "It's just, the kids in my class always tease me."

"About dance?"

"No…" he didn't want to tell her about the printer incident. It was too embarrassing. "It was just something stupid I did," he muttered, turning away from her and staring at his shoes instead.

"We all do stupid things when we're young," she reassured him. _Not something stupid like throwing a printer_ , he thought to himself. "What's important is that you learn from these incidents, and not do it again." He nodded, biting his lower lip. "And remember," she continued. "If you still feel sad, find something that makes you happy and stick to it, do something that will cheer you up when you feel down, understand?"

"I like dance," he smiled. "It makes me happy."

"Then make the dance studio your haven, lose yourself in the music and forget about school, forget about the kids who are mean to you. You're a good dancer, Connor, you have a gift for it and you work hard. I know that the past few weeks haven't been the best performances from you, but I can see that you have so much potential. I'm really proud of you."

"Really?" he beamed. She nodded encouragingly at him. "Thanks, Mrs. Shapiro!"

"Well, I've kept you here long enough," she said, heading for the door. "Your sister's probably waiting, I'll see you next week. And don't forget to practice!"

"I will! Bye, Mrs. Shapiro!" Connor gave her a little wave as he headed out the door.

She noticed that he had a little more spring in his step than he'd had when he first entered an hour ago.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **so...i don't really like this chapter that much? it feels a bit like a filler or something, idk.**  
 **anyway, tell me what you think about it? constructive criticism is always appreciated. and comments/kudos always motivate me ;))**  
 **if you wanna talk, hmu on tumblr, thewickedverkaiking!**

 **btw, feel free to send prompts for what you want to see in future chapters! i have a couple i promise i'm getting to soon (:**


	22. to break in a glove

**summary: in which larry teaches connor some baseball skills**

 **welcome to the chapter where i showcase my complete ignorance regarding baseball**  
 **i have zero fucking clue on how to baseball and i hate most ball sports which means i've never watched a game. so um, forgive any inaccuracies?**

 **anyway, chapter title from deh. (duh!)**

 **i apologize for posting this chapter late but today was kind of a shit day and i just finished writing it hnnnghhhh**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

After two weeks of summer break, Larry decided that Connor needed to get out of the house a little more, instead of spending most of his days at home reading or practicing his dance routines. Of course, Connor had protested fiercely, saying that he took Skywalker out for a run every morning, and went to the playground near their house every evening with Zoe. Larry, however, had put his foot down and signed Connor up for Little League.

While Connor spent the rest of the day sulking at home, Larry had set out to buy him a new baseball, bat, and glove. Cynthia was delighted at the prospect of him picking up a sport, and ironed the uniform so that there wasn't a single crease in it, although Larry reminded her that it would probably end up dirty and muddy after a few minutes on the field. She, however, was not dissuaded in the least.

"You're going to look so handsome in this!" she gushed, holding up the uniform for Connor to take a look.

He nodded half-heartedly. It looked nice, and he liked the colors, but he didn't want to wear that uniform and go to Little League and play baseball. It didn't look fun, he didn't even like baseball, and the other boys would probably be better than him because he wasn't athletic like them. And then he would probably do something stupid like miss all the balls and make Larry embarrassed.

"Connor, come over here, and see what I got you," Larry called the following morning.

Connor set his book down and hopped off the couch. "What is it, Dad?"

"I got you your baseball glove!" Larry exclaimed, taking the glove out of the bag and handing it to him. "I'm going to show you how to break it in."

Connor turned the glove over and put it on. "How do you break it in?" he asked, following Larry to his workshop.

The table was already set up with various bottles and cloths, along with older tools from one of Larry's previous projects. Connor noticed that there were new baseball memorabilia decorating the walls since the last time he'd been in there.

"First, shaving cream," Larry said, sitting down on the workbench and motioning for Connor to do the same.

"Shaving cream?" Connor giggled. "Does the glove have a beard?"

Larry laughed. "No, it's to soften the leather and help break in the glove. Feel how hard it is now?" Connor pinched it and nodded. "Shaving cream helps to soften it and makes it easier for you to catch or throw the ball. Now, you take the shaving cream, just a little, and rub it in for about five minutes."

"Can I try?" Connor took the glove from Larry and smeared some shaving cream onto it. "Is that enough?"

"That's good, you don't need too much." Larry nodded approvingly. "Once you're done with that step, you wrap the glove around the ball, and tie it up with rubber bands—just like that!"

"Then it's done?"

Larry shook his head. "Not quite, buddy. This is the part that's going to take a while: you put the glove under your mattress, and you sleep on it. And then you take it out tomorrow morning, put shaving cream onto it again, tie it up then put it under your mattress. And you do it every day for a week."

"Under my mattress?" Connor echoed in surprise. "Why?"

"It's going to help break in the glove, soften it enough so you can play comfortably."

"But a week is so long," Connor whined. Even if he didn't want to go to Little League, he still wanted to play with his new glove and ball.

"You have to be patient!" Larry clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "If you don't wait, you won't have a good glove to play with."

"Is there a faster way?"

"Well, a lot of the shortcuts people use seem to work at first, but they end up ruining your glove in the long run. One of my classmates in high school put his glove in the microwave."

Connor let out an amused laugh. "What happened? It got cooked?"

"Pretty much," Larry replied, with a disapproving shake of his head. "He was so proud of how quickly he had broken it in, but he ended up throwing it away in a week because it was completely ruined. A waste of a perfectly good glove, too." Connor nodded thoughtfully as he continued. "So you see, sometimes you may feel like you're going through too much trouble to get something done, but it pays off in the end." He handed Connor the glove. "Do you remember what I said about the steps?"

"Shaving cream, rubber bands, mattress." Connor replied, listing the items off his fingers.

Larry beamed. "That's it, son. You're good to go."

.

.

.

Connor had grown slightly more eager over the days leading up to Little League, especially after he finished breaking in the glove. When he pulled the soft leather from below the mattress and put it on for the first time, he'd grinned so broadly—he had broken in his first baseball glove! And Cynthia had taken a few dozen photos of him in the Little League uniform, proudly clutching his glove, ball, and bat, with Larry standing proudly at his side.

Looking at the pictures, Connor could see the similarities between him and Larry. They both had eyes that sparkled brightly, except that Larry's was brown and Connor's was blue, with a small patch of brown in the right eye (Zoe would teasingly call it the 'poop patch'). And they both had the little crinkle around the corner of their eyes when they smiled a little too hard.

"Did you play a lot of baseball when you were young, Dad?" Connor asked, looking up from the picture.

"So much," Larry replied nostalgically. "My dad used to take us to every baseball game, and I played with my friends every day after school. My brothers and I would collect all the baseball cards. My dad taught me how to break in my own glove for the first time when I was around your age, and I played with it until it was completely worn out."

"Do you think I'll be a good baseball player?"

"I'm sure you will be, with enough practice," Larry assured him, pulling the cap over Connor's eyes and making him giggle.

However, whatever prior excitement that Connor had been feeling about Little League was promptly extinguished after his first practice. The weather was too hot, he got tired out quickly, he kept missing the ball, and all the other boys seemed to be bigger and better than him.

Exhausted, sweaty, and frustrated, he dragged his feet back to the benches where all the parents were seated at, half-afraid of the criticism he expected from Larry.

"What did you think of the game, buddy?" Larry asked.

Connor took off his cap, running his fingers through his messy hair. "I'm no good," he sighed. "Kept missing the ball." He looked down, his pants had mud and grass stains at the knee from the two times he had tripped over.

"It's okay," Larry said with a smile, and Connor looked back up, a little surprised at not getting told of. "Nobody starts off perfect. This was only your first game."

"But those boys were so much better than me," Connor countered, swinging his bat in the direction of several other boys.

"Well, they may have practiced more. A lot of this is learned through practice," Larry said gently. "I haven't been doing a lot of that with you." He paused to think for a moment. "Tell you what, I'll do some drills with you a couple times a week, give you some extra practice. I used to do that with my brothers and dad all the time. How does that sound?"

Connor didn't really like the idea. He didn't really like baseball anyway, it wasn't fun and only made him tired and frustrated with himself, so the idea of playing more wasn't exactly appealing. But Larry looked so hopeful, and Connor did want to spend more time with him—he was always busy with work nowadays—so he finally nodded and agreed.

"That's great!" Larry beamed. "Well, let's gather your things so you can go home and take your bath. But first, how does a trip to 7-Eleven sound?"

"Awesome!"

.

.

.

"Watch how you hold your bat," Larry said as they practiced together a few evenings later.

"Like this?" Connor adjusted his grip.

"Much better," Larry nodded, throwing the ball towards him.

Connor swung the bat, but missed the ball again. "Ugh."

Skywalker excitedly bounded after the ball and brought it back to Larry. Her favorite thing about the game was all the balls she got to chase, and neither Larry nor Connor complained, since it saved them time from going after the balls themselves.

"That's okay, let's try again."

"I keep missing," Connor complained as they sat down to catch their breath ten minutes later. "It's too hard."

"Practice, young man, and patience," Larry chuckled. "That builds sportsmanship."

"But I'm no good at sports," Connor whined, pulling out a blade of grass and tearing it into shreds.

"That's why you need to work harder at it," Larry replied, standing back up. "Do you want to try again?"

"Alright," Connor agreed, getting up, albeit rather reluctantly.

Just then, Zoe appeared. "Can I try to play?" She motioned towards Connor's bat.

"Sure," he handed it to her. "But do you know how to play?"

"No, but I watched you and I want to try," she replied confidently.

"Let's see how you do, shall we?" Larry said, pitching the ball.

Connor could tell that Zoe wasn't holding the bat correctly, and he was just about to point it out when she hit the ball back to Larry.

"Yay! I hit it!" Zoe cheered, doing a little victory dance as Larry and Connor stared at each other in surprise.

"That was really good, Zo!" Larry finally exclaimed.

"How did you do that?" Connor managed to squeak out.

"I don't know, I just saw it coming so I whacked it," Zoe laughed. "Can I try again?"

She missed the second and third ball, but managed to hit the next one. After that, she declared she had enough and walked back into the house.

Connor picked up the ball and bat, looking over his shoulder at Zoe's retreating figure. "See, even Zo-Zo is better than I am," he said dejectedly.

"Connor, just because someone is better than you doesn't mean that you aren't good," Larry responded kindly. "Maybe you just need a little more practice to get to that level. But let's take a break for now and get ready for dinner, you've already improved a lot today."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Thanks, Dad."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **okay as much as i hate baseball 'to break in a glove' fucks me up every single time i listen to it**  
 **guys.**  
 **larry was trying so hard. he really was. say what you want about him but he really tried.**

 **anyway, constructive criticism always appreciated! lmk what baseball facts i got wrong so i dont repeat them lmao thank you**  
 **also, like, comment, subscribe, you know the drill. and hmu on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking) if you ever want to chat!**


	23. coward's way

**summary: in which connor finds out about the coward's way out**

 **tw: mentions of suicide, suicide ideation**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Ellison State Park was just over an hour's drive away, and summer break was nearly over when Larry suggested they visit it and have a day of hiking. The park was many times larger than Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard, and Connor loved the tall strong oak trees that towered above him. The weather was still warm, but there was a cool breeze blowing, which made their hike significantly more comfortable.

Shortly after noon, they stopped briefly for lunch, Cynthia having packed sandwiches and drinks for them. Around an hour later, they were continuing along the trail when they arrived at a long bridge over a rushing river. Zoe and Connor tiptoed to look over the edge of the bridge, then drew back with a frightened squeal.

"It's so high!"

"The river is so… so…" Connor hesitated, looking for the right words.

"Turbulent?" Cynthia offered.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And see, there are so many rocks," he pointed to where the water frothed and swirled around a few large rocks. Looking down, he picked up a pebble lying on the bridge and threw it down. It seemed to just disappear into the river, and he couldn't even hear the splash over the sound of the rushing water.

Zoe tapped his shoulder, "Want to play catch?"

Connor, Zoe, and Skywalker chased each other up and down the bridge, shrieking with laughter or fear when they got a little too close to the side of the bridge, to the amusement of several other hikers that happened to pass by. When they were tired out, they slowly walked back to Cynthia, still laughing, and she gave them a drink of water.

"What's Daddy looking at?" Connor asked.

"I don't know, why don't you go and find out?" she suggested.

"Okay."

Larry was standing at the midpoint of the bridge, reading an information board.

"What are you reading?" Connor queried, coming to stand by his side.

"Oh, it's the information board talking about the bridge."

Connor scanned the board. "Is the bridge's name Coward's Way?" Larry nodded. "Why?"

Larry pointed to a passage on the board. "Apparently, it got its name in the 1930's—a lot of people committed suicide by jumping off the bridge during the Great Depression."

For Connor, it suddenly felt wrong for them to have been playing on the bridge, laughing and chasing each other the way they had. It felt nearly chilling that they had been having so much fun on the very same bridge that people had come to in order to jump off and end their lives. He wondered how many people had taken the leap, and what would drive them to do such a thing.

"Who jumped off the bridge?" Zoe asked as she joined them, having only heard the last part of the conversation.

Connor searched for the passage on the board. "Some people," he finally answered, pointing at the board, "during the Great Depression, 'cause they didn't have enough money."

"But why would they jump off the bridge?" Zoe frowned. "That's just scary." She leaned over the edge again, fingers clutching the side of the railings until her knuckles turned white. "Yeah, too scary," she repeated, stepping away.

"Because they were looking for the easy way out of their problems," Larry said, "They didn't know what to do."

"But why is it called Coward's Way?" Connor asked. "I think you have to be super brave to jump off a bridge."

"Well," Larry answered seriously. "It's because a lot of people who commit suicide are considered cowards, because they don't want to go on living and facing their problems, so they kill themselves, thinking it will solve all their issues. But of course, it only creates more trouble for the friends and families that they leave behind."

"That's kinda sad," Connor finally murmured after a moment of thoughtful silence. "But I still think that it's super brave to commit suicide, because you need to be really brave to die."

"Yeah," Zoe agreed. "Because dying is scary."

Larry shook his head. "No, suicide is considered cowardly because the person is too scared to keep on living."

"Why would they be scared of living? It's dying that's scary—living is fun!" Connor exclaimed, giving a little jump as if to emphasize his point.

"Speaking of fun," Cynthia interrupted, in a bid to steer the conversation away from the bleak topic, "Why don't we head back soon, and maybe we can stop at A La Mode from some ice cream on the way home?"

"Yes! Ice cream!" The two children cheered.

.

.

.

Connor looked up from his encyclopedia. "Mum?"

"What's the matter, sweetie?"

"In the book, they say that some soldiers kill themselves by eating a poisonous pill," Connor hesitated before continuing, "Is that like suicide, too?"

A look of concern flitted across her face, but she quickly masked it. "Does the book say why the soldiers do that?"

Connor opened the book, quickly flipping through the pages until he had found the passage he was referring to. "It says that during World War Two the soldiers didn't want to get caught by the enemy soldiers, so they would eat the pill and kill themselves."

"Well, you see, Con," Cynthia said, "In wartime, soldiers who are caught by the enemy are sometimes tortured for information, so to avoid giving the important information to the enemy, they choose to commit suicide instead."

Connor thought about it for a while. "So is it cowardly, too? Because they're killing themselves because they're scared of getting tortured, right?"

Cynthia paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "No… it's not. Because what they're doing is protecting their information, and not allowing the enemy to get it. Which, I guess you can say, is actually quite brave. Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "Okay," he said, picking the book back up and returning to it.

"Um, Connor," Cynthia began after a beat, a little unsure of how to broach the subject. "Is this—I know it was a few days ago, but are you still thinking about Coward's Way?"

He looked up, and opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. "No," he lied. "I was just asking about the book."

She looked relieved. "Okay, good. I just didn't know if you were still thinking about—" she cut herself off. "Well, you know that you can always talk to me, right?"

"About what?"

"You know, just anything," she forced a smile.

He nodded. "Yeah, 'kay."

He went back to the book before him, but Coward's Way kept flashing before his eyes. The raging, turbulent, greenish-blue water that crashed over the grey rocks as it tumbled to who knows where. How the little pebbles they'd thrown had disappeared beneath the white, frothing surface without even making a ripple.

He wondered what it must feel like to jump off the bridge and into the water. How deep was the water? Would it hurt? Like the time he'd jumped off the diving board and smacked his chest and his face against the water in the swimming pool so hard his goggles had fallen off? How long would it take a person to die from falling in?

He put his head down on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't like thinking about these kinds of things, they made him feel uncomfortable. But every time he closed his eyes, the bridge seemed to reappear, as if to taunt him. In a sense, he regretted that they had ever seen the bridge on their hike.

Well, it wasn't the bridge itself, per say. It was situated over a beautiful location, and staring down at the rushing river had initially made him thrilled, albeit slightly scared at the same time. No, it was the fact that the bridge had been used for suicide, for people to kill themselves, that was what gave him chills.

He wanted to get all these thoughts out of his head. He didn't know why they kept coming back to him.

"Mom!" he yelled in the direction of the kitchen.

"What do you want, Connor? I'm cooking!"

"May I watch TV with Zo-Zo?"

"Yes, you may, but please limit it to half an hour, you already watched some this morning."

"Okay, thanks!" He ran over to the television, picking the remote off the couch and turning it on, flipping through the channels until he had found Animal Planet. "Zo! Do you want to watch TV with me?" he hollered up the stairs.

"Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs to join him on the couch.

For the next thirty minutes, Connor let himself get lost in the documentary about a pride of lions, and Coward's Way was forgotten—at least for now.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **um . i don't really like this chapter and it was a bitch to write . but it's done and posted and i hope you like it?**

 **i had a really crazy week and i'm exhausted. but comments/kudos motivate me! so if you want more chapters... y'all know what to do ;))**


	24. avoidance

**summary: in which connor skips school**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

School started late in August. And to Connor's disappointment and horror, the printer incident was still not forgotten. Even though the jokes and taunts were often reused by the students, it didn't make them any less stinging. It took all his willpower not to punch someone in the face, but he knew it wouldn't help him at all, especially when he was the smallest in the class.

However, while school felt like an exhausting marathon he had to run every morning, there was a small reprieve—Mrs. G didn't teach any class higher than the 2ndgrade, which meant the Connor never needed to see her again. At least, he hoped so.

Additionally, he liked his new English teacher. Miss Benson was tall and had short brown hair in a pixie cut (he didn't know what a pixie cut was, but that was what Cynthia had called it when he described it, so he supposed it was the opposite of hippie hair, which was long), and she always came to class with a smile. Her lessons were never boring, and Connor thought that the best thing about her was that she didn't look at him like he was a concern or a threat, or as if he may throw another printer in class.

During roll call on the first day back, all the other teachers had given him a pointed look when they called his name, a few of the meaner classmates laughed, and he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever; instead, he meekly answered "here". But Miss Benson didn't do that, she wasn't like the other teachers. She smiled at every student as she read their name off the list, and her expression didn't change when she got to Connor.

When he had to read aloud in class—which terrified him because everyone was staring at him and probably waiting for him to mess up so they could tease him—she always encouraged him by saying, "Connor, you have a really nice voice, and your reading is very fluent, just remember to be a little louder next time so everyone can appreciate it better, alright?" And when he read a little louder, she would beam proudly and give him a thumbs-up, and it made him feel as happy as he felt when he finally got a difficult step right in dance class.

Of course, it was just Connor's luck that less than three weeks later, Miss Benson was sick from the flu, and there was a substitute teacher he had never seen before. But while he had never seen her before, she must have been told about him, because at the start of class she said, "I trust that I won't have to deal with any trouble from you today." He'd wanted to vehemently protest, and say that the printer was a one-off incident, and just because he made a mistake it didn't mean that he was going to repeat it. But he knew that if he spoke up, she would just scold him for causing trouble, so he settled for scowling at her instead. For a moment, she looked as if she was about to scowl back, but instead she continued reading off the other student's name.

When it was his turn to read, she impatiently snapped at him after he'd read the first sentence. "Connor, if you don't speak up, nobody's going to be able to hear you and you're just wasting our time." He'd tried his best to read a little louder afterwards, but tears that threatened to spring up made it difficult to do so, and the words seemed to catch in his throat.

He spent the rest of the lesson thinking about how much he hated the stupid school, and all the stupid teachers, and all of his stupid classmates.

The following morning, he woke up with a determination not to go to school. He lay in bed until Cynthia came into his room and informed him that he was going to be late.

Good.

He wanted to be late. Maybe if he was late enough his parents would say "nevermind" and let him stay at home, at least for today.

He dawdled while brushing his teeth and washing his face, before making sure he was extra slow walking down the stairs and into the dining room.

Cynthia shot him a concerned look. "Connor, you better hurry, we need to leave in ten minutes."

Good.

He was going to be late.

Zoe had already cleared her plate while Connor was still picking at his buttered toast.

"Connor," Cynthia warned. "We're leaving in two minutes, either hurry up and finish your food, or clear your plate now."

Connor put his bread down. "I don't want to go to school," he announced.

She frowned. "What do you mean by you're not going to school?"

"I'm not going."

"There's nothing wrong with you today, you have to go."

"No." Connor coolly replied, slowly taking another bite of toast.

When he looked up again, Cynthia had her arms folded, and was looking down at him sternly. "I'm not saying it again, Connor."

"No."

She sighed in exasperation and turned to Larry, who was engrossed in the morning papers. "Can you please deal with him. I need to get Zoe to school before she is late, too."

For a split second, Connor was about to celebrate his victory when Larry folded up the newspaper and grunted. "I'll drop him off on the way to work."

Crap.

No.

This wasn't how it should work. This wasn't the plan.

"But I don't want to go to school!" he protested loudly as Cynthia gave Larry a peck on the lips and hustled Zoe out of the door.

"You have to go to school, Connor."

"No!"

"Connor."

"You can't make me," Connor declared, folding his arms and trying to look as obstinate as possible.

Larry looked him up and down. "I'll give you a choice: get dressed and get your bag now, or I'll put you in the car and drop you off still in your pajamas."

Connor stood, rooted to the spot for a while and weighing his options before letting out a growl of frustration and stomping upstairs. He changed and picked up his bag, dragging it behind him by the straps and letting it thump down the stairs.

Larry was holding his briefcase in one hand and his car keys in the other. "Come on," he said a little impatiently. "I'm going to be late."

By the time they had pulled out of the driveway, Connor had made up his mind that he was going to skip school; he was not going to set foot in that building today.

In his rush to get to work on time, Larry had dropped him off at the school gates and drove off almost immediately.

Even better.

School had already started and there wasn't anybody near the entrance. There was no way Connor was going to walk into class late, and so, he glanced around to double-check there was no one who might notice him, and started down the path that lead back towards his house.

The school was about a fifteen-minute drive from his house, but he knew it was still within walking distance, because Cynthia had said the path was a shortcut, and the road to school took a slight detour. It was easy-peasy.

There was a playground halfway along the path, and Connor couldn't wait to have the whole place to himself while everyone was still stuck in the classroom.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to reach the playground, and he sat on the swing for a few moments to catch his breath. For the next hour and a half, Connor relished every second of being the only child at the playground—it wasn't filled with children screaming loudly, he could swing for as long as he liked, and he didn't need to wait his turn for the slide.

He only wished that Zoe was with him, like the time both of them skipped Sunday School and played on the church playground. Everything was more fun with Zoe, she always had fun ideas for the two of them to play together. When she wasn't around, he felt a little lonelier, because he had no one to talk to or share jokes with.

After he was spent from climbing the jungle gym, he sat down on a bench to eat the sandwich and fruits Cynthia had packed for lunch. She had been packing a lot of fruits for their school lunches lately, after several other moms had mentioned they were doing that. Connor didn't mind though, he liked fruits and they were better than vegetables. Especially oranges, they were his favorites.

A few bold pigeons approached him, and he sprinkled a few bread crumbs at his feet for them to nibble on. He pulled a book out from his bag to read as he ate, vaguely wondering what his classmates were doing now. Glancing at his watch, he noted it would be lunchtime at school too, and returned to his book.

He as engrossed in the story when a familiar bark jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Skywalker?"

A blur of black fur, and the next thing he knew, Skywalker was licking his face and wagging her tail.

"Skywalker! What are you doing—"

He froze.

When he looked up, his mother was standing in front of him, her expression unreadable.

"Connor Lawrence Murphy, why aren't you in school?"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **uh oh!**

 **anyway,**  
 **if you liked this chapter, please subscribe, leave a kudos, comment, or hmu on my tumblr (thewickedverkaiking)**


	25. forgiveness

**It's good to see me, isn't it?**  
 **(No need to respond, that was rhetorical question!)**

 **In other words, yours truly is back from her hiatus**

 **Summary: Cynthia isn't happy, but Miss Benson is a little more understanding**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Connor Murphy, home— _now_." Cynthia's tone had an edge to it that Connor only heard when she was very, very angry, and he knew that he was in trouble.

The walk home only took around fifteen minutes, but to him, it felt much longer than that. Neither of them said a word, and when they arrived home, Cynthia went straight into the dining room and motioned for him to sit down at the table.

He did so, feeling a little sick from the dread twisting itself in his stomach.

Cynthia ran a hand through her hair. "What is going on, Connor? First, you're late for breakfast. Then after I drop Zoe off, I get a call from Daddy saying that he dropped you off at school. And then I get a call from the school an hour later saying that you're absent. What are you doing?"

"I didn't want to go to school," he whispered, staring at the floor. "So I didn't go in."

"Where did you go?"

"Just to the playground."

"Do you know how worried I was?" she demanded, her volume rising. He winced, shaking his head. He had had no idea. "I called your dad, I called the Davidsons, the Harrises, asking if they knew where you were. Then I had to cancel lunch with my friend because I had to look for you! Do you know how scared I was? Jesus Christ, Connor, I didn't know what had happened to my baby!"

"I was fine. I was just at the playground," he mumbled. It wasn't like he would get hit by a truck on the very day he decided to skip school, right?

"But I didn't know that, did I?" she snapped, causing him to jump. "How would I know that you weren't hurt, or got kidnapped, or… or something?"

Connor twisted the hem of his shirt, starting to feel guilty. "Sorry…"

"Why didn't you want to go to school?"

"Because I don't like anyone there."

"And that's a good reason?"

"Yes."

"Connor."

"What?" he protested. "It is."

"You and I both know that's not a good excuse."

 **It's good to see me, isn't it?**

 **(No need to respond, that was rhetorical question!)**

 **In other words, yours truly is back from her hiatus**

 **Summary: Cynthia isn't happy, but Miss Benson is a little more understanding**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Yes, it is," he defiantly countered. "Everybody there is mean to me, and I hate them all."

"Connor, hate is a strong word—"

"No, but it's true," he interrupted, feeling himself tear up. He always teared up when he got angry, and he hated it. Hated that he couldn't control himself, that he always ended up crying like a baby, even though he was already eight years old. "I hate them. They're stupid shitheads."

"Language!" Cynthia barked. He simply folded his arms and glared back up at her. She sighed. "If you're not going to be reasonable, I'm going to pick Zoe up, and when your dad comes home, he'll deal with you."

"Fine." Connor said, grabbing his bag and storming up to his room, even though he was decidedly notfine. He felt a little guilty for making his mother worry, but at the same time, he wasn't sorry. Actually, he was a little proud. He'd skipped school! For the first time! But now, he was kind of worried about what Larry might say when he came home. Would he get yelled at? Or get his books confiscated? Grounded? He knew he wouldn't have to go to school and apologize to the substitute teacher—at least not yet—because today was Friday and he wouldn't go back until Monday, and hopefully by then, Miss Benson would be feeling better and return to school.

There was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Con!"

It was Zoe.

They were already home?

He glanced at the clock; apparently, he had been caught up in his thoughts for much longer than he had realized.

"Come in."

She entered and exclaimed, "You skipped school?!"

"Yup!" he grinned, popping the 'p' and trying his best to look incredibly proud about it.

Her mouth was in an "O" shape, and she finally said, "You're very naughty, Connor."

He giggled at her reaction. "I know."

"Sabrina Patel asked me if you were sick, and I said no. So she said that maybe you skipped. I said no you didn't, because I didn't expect you to skip, but then I didn't see you at school and when Mummy picked me up she looked very angry, and that's when I decided that you did skip! And I was right!" she explained, evidently pleased with her deduction.

"Why does Sabrina Patel talk to you?" Sabrina was in Connor's grade, not Zoe's.

She shrugged. "She's my friend, she's nice."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Connor hummed. "Did Mummy say anything?"

"About Sabrina?"

"No, about me."

"No, she just said that you were at home when I asked her. But she looked really, really angry."

"Oh no…"

.

.

.

"Hey, Murphy, did you really skip school on Friday?"

Connor turned in his seat to face Jared Kleinman, who was sitting right behind him. "No, I went to the moon," he deadpanned.

"Holy shit, you really skipped!" Jared whistled, looking impressed. "Can we be friends?"

"What the hell?" Jared seemed to think that things like swearing and skipping school and other bad things were cool, and Connor was pretty sure that he was just trying to look cool, although he really wasn't. He had weird blue glasses, was kind of chubby, and he always tried too hard to fit in with the popular kids when he obviously just wasn't one of them.

"Where did you go?" Jared pressed.

"None of your business," Connor curtly replied, turning back around. He didn't want to talk about it.

He glanced up again, and relief washed over him as Miss Benson stepped into the classroom. "Good morning, class, I've missed you while I was sick."

"Are you feeling better now, Miss Benson?" Alana Beck asked.

"I'm feeling much better, Alana, thank you for asking," Miss Benson smiled.

All the teachers liked Alana. She was smart, received good grades, and never got into any trouble. Even though they didn't really talk, and he didn't remember how it had started, she and Connor had a little friendly competition to see who got better grades on their tests and homework. Most of the time, Alana would do a little better than him, but that didn't mean he didn't try. Most of the time, he placed second in class. But the teachers always liked Alana much more, because she was polite, smiled a lot, and didn't fidget in her seat like he always did. The first time he got a higher score on a test than she did, he had been over the moon. But then she'd looked like she was going to cry, and for some reason he felt so bad that he'd actually said sorry to her at lunch, which was weird, because he actually felt really happy that he beat her, but then he never liked to watch other people cry. It probably didn't really matter that much in the end anyway, because she beat him by two whole marks on their next assignment.

"Connor Murphy?" Miss Benson called, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Yes, Miss Benson?"

"Meet me after class, I want to talk to you."

A few of the children sniggered and whispered to each other, while Connor nodded and spent the rest of the class dreading what she was going to say to him. The substitute teacher had most likely told her what had happened, that he was a really bad kid and that he had skipped school. Would she be mad at him? Disappointed? Maybe she didn't like him anymore, and then he would have nobody left at school who didn't think he was a freak.

When class was over, the students slowly filed out of the classroom, leaving just him and Miss Benson in the room together. He could hear lockers being opened and closed in the hallway. Miss Benson got up and shut the door, then came next to Connor's desk, pulling a chair to sit opposite him. He looked up at her.

"I heard you didn't come to class on Thursday," she began. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I… I skipped," he admitted, his cheeks beginning to burn.

"Is there a reason why?" she asked gently.

"You weren't in class," he said, suddenly realizing how stupid his excuse sounded out loud. "And I didn't want to go to class because it's boring without you."

But instead of laughing at his stupid excuse, or scolding him for skipping, Miss Benson simply smiled and said, "I'm glad to enjoy my lessons. But Connor, I'm not going to be your teacher for forever. Someday you're still going to have to go school even when I'm no longer teaching. And you should like your subjects not because of your teacher, but because you love to learn.

"But when the teacher is boring it's no fun to learn," Connor grumbled, tracing circles on the desk with his index finger.

"Then you've got to look a little harder to find the fun in it," she said. "Sometimes, when I look through the material I have to teach, it looks boring, so I have to look extra hard for the fun parts to show them to the class. But sometimes, the teacher's not going to do it for you, and that's when you have to learn to do it for yourself, do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think so," he nodded. There was a pause, then he cleared his throat and asked, "Are you mad at me?"

She reached across the desk to pat his hand. "I'm not mad at you, Connor. I was a student before, too, and I think we as children have all thought about skipping school, even if we didn't actually do it." She laughed, and he found himself smiling.

"Did you ever skip school?"

"That… that's not a question I'm obligated to answer," she replied, winking at him.

"You did! Didn't you?" he grinned mischievously.

She grinned back. "Like I said, I'm not saying."

Connor was pretty sure that when an adult laughed and said they didn't do something, that meant that they did do it, but he didn't want to push it.

"I know what it's like to dislike school," she continued, "but Connor, I've seen you in class, you love to learn, you get good grades, you work hard. You have a lot of potential, so I want you to promise me that you're going to continue studying hard and not skip school, even when I'm not your teacher anymore. Think you can do that? For me?"

Connor didn't know if he could do it, but he was going to try. Because it would make Miss Benson happy, and it would make his parents happy too. So, yes, he was going to try his best. "Okay, I promise."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **honestly this chapter would have been completed a lot quicker if i hadn't been binging law and order: svu instead of writing. but oh well.**

 **remember! comments motivate me ;)))**

 **also hmu on tumblr (thewickedverkaiking) for updates on my writings or if you wanna chat**


	26. trick or treat

**that scene from A Little Bit of Light we all cry over? more likely than you think**  
 **a Halloween chapter in the middle of April? also more likely than you think**

 **Summary: in which connor is spiderman, zoe is ariel, luke is captain america, and samuel is a dick**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Mummy, will we be picking out Halloween costumes soon?"

Cynthia held up the catalogue she had been perusing. "Yes, actually, I was just looking at costumes. Who do you want to be this year?"

"I want to be Spider-Man!" Connor exclaimed, pretending to shoot webs at her from his wrists. "Oh, and Luke said that he is going to be Captain America, so I think that we should have a superhero theme."

"No, I want to be Ariel, because I want to see what I look like with red hair," Zoe decided.

"Okay, then just Luke and me will have superhero themes."

Zoe nodded. "Okay!"

"You two sure about your choices?" Cynthia double-checked. They nodded. "Well, that was easy. Much quicker than last year!"

Zoe huffed in exaggerated offense. "That was because there are too many good Star Wars people! We couldn't choose!"

.

.

.

It was the afternoon of Halloween, and Cynthia was in her bedroom, fussing over Connor and Zoe's costumes, and making several last-minute adjustments. "Zoe, please bring me the hair curler from the bathroom drawer. Connor, come back here, are you sure that your costume fits now?"

"I'm sure, Mum!" he assured her for the third time in the past ten minutes, exasperation beginning to sneak into his voice. The costume had been too large on the sides for his little frame, forcing her to pull out her sewing machine and spend the past few days personally making alterations.

"Let me just check it one more time."

He gave a little sigh and stood in front of her, while she checked to make it sure it looked alright. "What time is Luke coming?"

"Mrs. Davidson said around six-thirty, they should be here soon."

"It's six twenty-two now," Zoe said, reappearing from the bathroom, the curler in her hands. "So that's eight minutes left, right?"

"Well, approximately," Cynthia hummed, untangling the wire and plugging the curler in. "Bring a chair over and sit down."

"Do you want to hear a joke?" Connor asked, flopping down on the recliner that sat off to the side.

"Not now, I'm busy, honey," Cynthia murmured as she began curling Zoe's hair.

"But I'm bored!"

"Okay, tell it, I want to hear it," Zoe piped up.

Connor grinned appreciatively at her. "Why did the duck cross the road?"

"You mean chicken," Zoe corrected.

"No, I mean duck," he insisted. "This is a different one; I made it up. Can you guess the answer?"

She thought for a moment before finally giving up. "I don't know, why?"

"To prove he wasn't chicken!"

Zoe and Cynthia both burst into laughter. "That's a good one!" Cynthia praised.

"I made it up," Connor proudly said.

"It's very funny!" Cynthia assured him. He grinned and took a dramatic bow.

"You should dress up as the Joker next year," Zoe teased.

He winked at her. "Maybe."

Just then, the doorbell rang, followed by Skywalker's excited barking.

"I'll get it!" Connor exclaimed, rushing down the stairs and pulling the door open. "Hi Luke! Hi Mrs. Davidson!"

"Hello, Con!" Luke greeted, his voice slightly distorted from behind the Captain America mask. "Cool costume."

"Yeah, yours too," Connor commented as they sat down on the couch to wait for Zoe to be finished.

"Hey! Look at my costume!" Zoe called from the doorway, causing them both to turn towards her. "What do you think?"

"I—it's nice, but you look kinda… weird with red hair," Connor finally said, his face scrunched up as he studied her.

"I know, but I like it," she said, warbling the first few lines from "Part of Your World".

"Okay, kids, I hate to break up this lively discussion, but how about some photos?" Cynthia interrupted, camera in hand.

.

.

.

The street was lined with a number of children, some dressed in fancy costumes, others in simpler ones, but all carrying bags or buckets they hoped to fill with treats by the end of the night.

The five of them went from door to door, along with Skywalker (who had her own Wonder Woman costume), as their bags got fuller, and passing Batman, Wolverine, several Snow Whites, and a couple of Darth Vaders. Halfway around the block, the children stopped to gloat over their loot.

"Look at all the candy I have!" Zoe exclaimed, holding her bag out for Connor and Luke.

"I hate lots too!" Connor said. "And I'm going to eat it all!"

"Not in one day I hope," Mrs. Davidson joked. "Or you might get a stomachache."

"Of course not." Adults always said that, it was as if they took everything so seriously, when he obviously knew you didn't eat a whole bag of candy in a day. He was eight, not stupid. You'd probably die of diabetes, or something.

"Those guys' costumes look kinda creepy," Luke said in a low voice, nudging Connor to look at a pair of teens crossing the street. Both were dressed as mummies, their bandages stained with fake blood.

Connor swallowed. "Wow, yeah, that is kinda scary." Some of the older children on the block had really freaky costumes, and even though he knew that it wasn't real and everything was makeup and fake, it still spooked him a little.

"Hey! You! Skinny Spidey!"

The two boys turned to see the two Harris kids right behind them. Connor immediately felt his stomach drop at the sight of Samuel.

"Dude, you look even skinnier in that costume!" Samuel mocked as he swaggered up.

Connor instantly felt incredibly self-conscious, and he scowled darkly at Samuel before remembering that he was wearing a mask.

"Sam," Molly admonished weakly, "Stop being mean."

"No, but look at him, he's so—"

Before he could continue, she grabbed him by his hand and yanked him across the street, calling "Sorry!" over her shoulder.

"That kid's not very nice," Mrs. Davidson commented with a frown, eyeing the two retreating figures.

"Boys will be boys," Cynthia hummed as they continued down the block.

"I really look so skinny," Connor muttered dejectedly as he looked down at his small frame in the tight costume, more to himself than anyone else.

"No, you're not," Luke countered. "You're fine, and we're the same size."

"You have more muscle than me," Connor whined. "I'm just like a twig."

"You look fine."

"You're only saying that 'cause you're my friend."

"No, I'm saying that 'cause it's true," Luke smiled.

"The weather's getting quite cool, isn't it?" Mrs. Davidson commented, "I don't remember it being this cold last Halloween."

Zoe rubbed her bare arms as a breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"Do you want my cardigan, Zo?" Cynthia offered.

She shook her head. "No, that'll spoil the costume."

"But if you're cold—"

"I'm not, Mummy," Zoe interrupted, impatiently tugging on her mother's hand. "Let's go to the rest of the houses."

When their bags were all full, they headed home. It was almost nighttime, and a few houses along the street were lit by creepy Halloween decorations. The Murphy's front yard had been transformed a few days ago into an eerie graveyard, with several glow-in-the-dark skeletons dangling from the trees, and swinging back and forth whenever the breeze blew.

"Your decorations are creepy," Luke admitted as they made their way past a skeleton and into the house. "We usually just have a jack-o-lantern and some cobwebs."

"My parents like to decorate," Connor shrugged. "And it's fun to choose where the skeletons go."

"How did trick-and-treating go, kids?" Larry greeted as they entered.

"Good!" the three of them chorused. "We got lots of candy."

"Can I have some?" Larry teased.

Connor pondered for a moment before seriously saying, "Just a few. Because I worked hard for it." The adults erupted into laughter as he defensively continued, "What? We had to walk down the street and ask for it!"

Mrs. Davidson was about to open her mouth and reply when Zoe sneezed.

"Bless you!" Connor and Luke exclaimed in unison.

"You alright?" Cynthia asked.

In response, Zoe simply sneezed again.

"Well, I guess a costume with a bare midriff wasn't the best idea in this weather," Cynthia sighed.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **I may or may not have written this while listening to A Little Bit of Light on repeat and crying about it. Because yikes.**

 **(Also, I've never gone trick and treating before? So like, excuse any inaccuracies?)**

 **Anyway, if you liked this chapter please leave a kudos, comment, or subscribe!**

 **Or you can hmu on tumblr (thewickedverkaiking) for a chat**


	27. sick days

**Summary: Connor and Zoe are sick**

 **prompt from scorpius-cinnamon-roll on Archive of Our Own :)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Sure enough, the next day, Zoe woke up complaining of a runny nose and sneezing every few minutes.

"I don't feel well," she moaned at breakfast.

"Well, you certainly don't look well at all," Cynthia said in concern. "I think you must have caught a chill last night."

"Can I eat some of my Halloween candy later?" she asked. When her mother shook her head, she tried another tactic. "I think it would help me feel better."

"Nice try, hon, but no sugary foods when you're sick, sorry."

"That's not fair, Connor gets to eat his," she whined, pointing to the two empty candy wrappers next to her brother's plate.

Connor looked up. "I'm not sick."

"But it's not fair," Zoe repeated, folding her arms and slouching in her seat. "I don't want to be sick."

"I know you don't," Cynthia said sympathetically. "But since you're not well, you have to stay away from the sweets for now."

"And the chocolates, too?" Zoe asked, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.

"And the chocolates, too. Sorry, sweetie."

Zoe hiccupped and tried to wipe a tear as it slid down her cheek, only to end up sneezing again.

Feeling sorry for her, Connor reached across the table and patted her on the arm. "Okay, Zo-Zo, if it makes you feel better, I won't eat any of my candy until you get well."

Zoe blew her nose into a tissue, before replying with a grateful smile, "Thanks, Con."

"Aww, Zo, your brother is so kind!" Cynthia praised, ruffling his hair as he blushed and tried to swat her hand away.

Zoe sneezed again.

"You better get some rest," Cynthia said, placing a hand against her forehead. "You're feeling a little feverish."

"But I just woke up!"

"But the more you rest, the sooner you'll get better, alright?" Cynthia said, shooing her from the breakfast table.

"What about me?" Connor piped up.

"I guess you'll have to play without Zoe today. Do you want to build your new Lego sets with me?"

"I already finished them yesterday," he said, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I really can't play with her today?"

"I want her to try and sleep off the cold, but when she wakes up, I can let you play with her for a while if she's feeling better. But only if she's feeling better."

He nodded and went off to read some books. He was halfway through one of his new Hardy Boys books when he heard Zoe's bedroom click open, followed by her sleepy voice asking for some water. He stepped out into the corridor, and she caught sight of him and asked, "Con, can I have some water please? I don't know where Mummy is."

"Sure," he said, heading downstairs and into the kitchen.

Cynthia was bent over a pot that was simmering on the stove. She looked up when she heard him enter. "Do you need something, Connor?"

"I'm just getting some water for Zo-Zo," he said, picking up her cup.

"Let me get it," Cynthia offered.

"No, I want to do it," he insisted, filling it and heading back up the stairs, feeling very much like a big brother.

Zoe was waiting for him by her doorway.

"Are you feeling better, honey?" Cynthia asked as Zoe took a sip of water.

"I think so," she nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her pajama sleeve. "But I'm super bored."

"Connor can play with you for a short while," Cynthia relented, "but we're going to eat lunch soon."

The siblings flashed each other an excited grin. "Let's go," Connor exclaimed, pulling Zoe off to the playroom.

.

.

.

Around an hour after lunch, Cynthia went up to the playroom to inform the children to get ready for their naptime. Not finding them there, she stuck her head into Zoe's room, a smile spreading across her face at the heartwarming sight before her.

Zoe was sprawled across her bed, Connor lying next to her, reading aloud from one of her storybooks.

"You two are so adorable," Cynthia found herself saying, and the two children looked up, slightly startled by her presence. "Zoe, you're so lucky you have a brother who takes such good care of you. I have the two best kids in the world!"

They laughed, a little embarrassed. Crossing the room, she kissed them both on the forehead, before gently taking the book out of Connor's hand. "Don't read when you're lying down," she chided, only half-scolding.

"I was reading to Zoe!"

"I know, but you don't want to damage your eyesight, right?"

He nodded meekly, taking the book back from her and returning it to its proper place on the bookshelf.

"Time for your naptime, okay?" she reminded them. "Especially you, Zoe, the more you rest, the sooner you'll get better."

Around half an hour later, Cynthia opened her bedroom door to find Connor standing there. "What's the matter, honey?"

"I don't feel too good," he complained.

A look of concern flashing across her face, she placed a hand against his forehead. "You arefeeling a little feverish."

"Am I sick, too?" he whimpered.

"I think so… Did you catch a cold last night?" She asked. He shook his head. She stepped over to Zoe's room, opening the door to find her lying on her bed, trying to hum a song under her breath, but sounding all weird because her nose was stuffed up.

"Zoe, when you went to Eliza's birthday party on Thursday, do you remember if there was anyone who might be sick?"

"I dunno," she shrugged.

"Can you try to remember?" Cynthia pressed.

Zoe thought for a minute before hesitantly replying, "I don't know… I think that maybe Claire had a cold?"

Cynthia groaned.

"What's wrong, Mummy?" Connor asked.

Cynthia sighed, replying, "I thought Zoe only caught a chill last night. If I'd known she'd caught a cold from someone else, I wouldn't have let you play with her."

"Is Con sick, too?" Zoe asked in dismay. Connor glumly nodded back. "Sorry for making you sick, Con."

"It's not your fault," he murmured, and then turned back to his mom. "Can I go back to my room and sleep?"

"Yes, of course, call me if you need anything, alright?" Cynthia said, rather worried that her usually energetic son was willingly asking to go to bed, not to mention right after a nap.

.

.

.

Shortly before dinnertime, Larry came home to the sight of his two children sitting across each other at the coffee table, alternating between giggling and blowing their noses while playing a game of checkers. The smell of soup drifted in from the kitchen.

"I heard you two were sick, so I came home early," Larry said, setting his briefcase down and bending over their game. "Feeling any better?"

Connor wiped his nose, throwing the tissue into the trashcan they'd moved next to the table, and nodded.

"Yeah, I think so," Zoe replied. "But Connor is beating me at the game."

"Why don't you—" Larry began, as he reached over to move one of Zoe's pieces.

Connor quickly pushed his hand away. "No! You can't, it's my turn!" He turned his attention back to the checkerboard, strategically moving one of his pieces. "Okay, I win!"

"You always win!" Zoe pouted. "I'm no good at checkers. Can we play something else?"

"But I wanted to play checkers again!"

"But then I'll just lose again, and that's no fun!" Zoe argued.

"Okay, okay," Larry stepped in, hoping to defuse the situation. "How about we take a break from the board games and watch a movie?"

They both lit up. "Yes!"

"Can we watch Star Wars?"

"Sure!" Larry replied. "Which episode?"

"Five!" "Six!" Connor and Zoe yelled at the same time.

"We're only watching one episode."

"Five!" "Six!" They repeated, before glaring at each other.

"Okay, how about we go with Zoe's choice this time? Since Connor, you already won the game of checkers?"

"Yay! I like Ewoks!" Zoe grinned, running over to the sofa and bouncing on it.

Connor ran up to his room to fetch his favorite blanket, before returning and taking his place next to Larry on the couch.

Fifteen minutes later, when Cynthia entered the room carrying four bowls of steaming chicken noodle soup, the movie was still playing at a low volume, but the two children were fast asleep, Connor wrapped up in the blanket and leaning against Larry's shoulder, and Zoe had her head in Larry's lap.

Larry looked over at Cynthia, smiling and placing a finger on his lips.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **if you liked this, please leave a kudos, comment, or subscribe!**  
 **also feel free to send in prompts, i'll try to incorporate them if they're canonical enough**  
 **constructive criticism is always appreciated**

 **or you can hmu on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking)**


	28. dangerous to dream

**summary: in which connor and zoe have their first dance recital**

 **this chapter was a bitch to write but it turned out to be super long compared to some of my others? ¯\\_(ツ** **)_/¯**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Is that real makeup?" Connor asked, gesturing to the makeup palette Mrs. Davidson held in one hand.

"Yep," she replied without missing a beat, as she continued applying foundation to Luke's face.

"Why does he need makeup? He's a boy!"

"So that the spotlights on the stage don't make me look weird," Luke explained.

"Do I need makeup, too?"

"Yes, you do," Mrs. Davidson said. "I'll help you with it once I'm finished here."

Connor frowned, looking at himself in the mirror, at the bag of makeup sitting on the table, at Luke getting his makeup on, then back at himself again. "But… I'm a boy…" Boys weren't supposed to wear makeup. It was like how Larry said boys shouldn't wear dresses or nail polish. They were for girls.

"Boys can wear makeup, too," Mrs. Davidson said. "Actors and dancers wear makeup all the time, because if they don't, the lights on stage will cause them to look washed out."

Connor nodded, only half-convinced. He had never seen boys wear makeup before. Larry certainly didn't wear any. He wondered what Larry would say when he saw him with makeup.

"Okay, Luke, can you do your eyeliner? I'm going to help Connor get his makeup on," Mrs. Davidson continued, snapping the foundation palette shut.

"Sure," Luke said, digging through the makeup bag until he had found the eyeliner pen.

"You can do your own makeup?" Connor asked, rather shocked.

"I'm still learning, but I can do a little bit of it by myself."

"Luke competes and performs quite frequently, and it's easier if he learns it himself," Mrs. Davidson explained. "Anyway, it's your turn." She motioned to an empty chair which he dragged over, sitting in front of her.

"It's so ticklish," he giggled, as she picked up the brush and began applying the foundation.

"Luke used to say the exact same thing." Mrs. Davidson smiled. "It does feel a little funny at first. Now, you have to hold very still while I apply the eyeliner."

"Why? Where does it go?"

"On your eyes, right here," Mrs. Davidson pointed to the eyeliner she was wearing.

"You'll poke my eyes!" Connor squeaked, aghast, as she uncapped the pen.

"I'll be very careful," she assured him. "You don't have to worry, Luke still sees perfectly with both of his eyes."

Connor let out a nervous laugh, still wary of the pen that she was holding. "Do I… do I really have to wear that?"

"I'm afraid you do," she said apologetically. "I promise I'll be super careful, but you'll also help by sitting as still as possible."

And he did. Although it was a rather terrifying experience that required him to keep his eyes wide open even when he was sure she was going to poke them. And while she didn't—thankfully!—he still breathed an audible sigh of relief when she was done.

Just then, Zoe skipped over, in full costume and her face covered in colorful stage makeup. "See, Connor, my butterfly makeup! And costume!"

"Great job on the makeup," Mrs. Davidson noted. "That doesn't look easy at all."

"Am I a qualified makeup artist yet?" Cynthia joked.

Mrs. Shapiro swished into the room. "Okay kids, the recital starts in five minutes. If you could all just finish up here and let your parents take their seats, that'd be great."

Cynthia handed Connor the program slip. "Your dance is around the middle of the recital, Zoe's is near the start."

"What about Luke's?"

"Mine is towards the end," Luke piped up.

"Are you nervous?" Mrs. Davidson asked.

"Yeah," the three of them nodded.

"It's our first recital," Zoe said, gesturing to Connor and herself.

"You'll all do great, I know it!" Mrs. Davidson cheered, and they all took turns giving her a high five.

"Will Daddy be coming?"

"Yes, he got here around five minutes ago."

"Remember to take videos, okay?" Zoe reminded Cynthia.

"Of course!" she called over her shoulder, as she and Mrs. Davidson headed out into the audience to find their seats—and their husbands.

Zoe went to sit with the five other girls she was in the group dance with, all of them wearing the same butterfly makeup as she was.

Connor looked around the room. There were teenage girls in pointe shoes and tutus, their hair tied back tightly in a neat bun; there were other girls wearing more elaborate or colorful makeup and costumes chatting near where Zoe and her friends sat; at the back of the room, there were two twins sitting next to each other, and Connor was pretty sure that they couldn't be older than four or five.

Sometimes, he wished that he'd been able to start dancing earlier.

And then he noticed something else.

"We're the only boys here," he commented softly to Luke, suddenly feeling like they were both sticking out like sore thumbs.

Luke glanced around the room. "You're right," he nodded, a little disappointed as well. "Wait, no," he nudged Connor's shoulder. "There's a boy over in that corner. He's doing tap, I think."

"Ohh, yeah," Connor said, only just now noticing him.

The boy was probably a year or two older than them, and he had his nose buried in a book.

Connor didn't know how someone could read a book before a performance; he was so nervous that he wanted to get up and walk around. But he couldn't do that, so he just sat in his seat and wiggled his legs and toes.

He could hear Mrs. Shapiro onstage, welcoming everyone to the studio's year-end recital, then announcing the first performance item. The group of teenage ballerinas filed out as the audience applauded, and a few seconds later the music began.

Connor didn't have a very good view of the stage from where he sat, so he turned around to see what Zoe was doing. She was still chatting with two other girls, but he could tell from the way her fingers kept playing with the ends of her costume that she was feeling nervous, too.

He nudged Luke. "Do you still get scared? Even after performing before?"

"A little," Luke admitted. "I always feel a bit nervous before any performance. But competitions are scarier, because there are judges, and they take off marks when you make mistakes. And it's also more stressful, because you want to win."

Connor nodded.

And then it was Zoe's dance. She and the other performers shuffled onstage, Connor mouthing a "good luck" to her. She didn't see him.

He slipped quietly into the wings to watch them perform. At first, it was a little hard to pick her out among the six girls, all the same height, and in identical makeup and costumes. But he knew how to spot her—she danced like nobody was watching.

Zoe always danced like it was her last dance, even during class or in practice. She always danced like she was having fun, sometimes sacrificing technique for expression. He loved watching her, there was always a freedom in her dancing that he could never seem to attain.

Connor was always technical—too technical, Mrs. Shapiro would sometimes say. He loved dancing, but often found himself focusing more on pointing his toes, or nailing his pirouettes, instead of expressing himself.

They were opposites. They had always been.

Zoe's dance was over quickly, and Connor made sure to clap super loudly for her as she made her way offstage.

"How'd I do?" she asked him as she went back to her seat, slightly out of breath after her performance.

"You were so good!" He enthusiastically praised, nearly forgetting to keep his voice low. "Very, very, very good."

She beamed at him, reaching forward to give his hand a quick squeeze. "Thanks, Con."

And then it was his turn to dance all too soon.

He felt a sudden rush of queasiness as Mrs. Shapiro announced his name and solo, but as he got up from his seat to head onstage, Zoe gave him a loud cheer and Luke flashed him two thumbs up, and he smiled back, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves before stepping onto the stage.

What if he messed up somewhere? What if he fell down? Or forgot his choreography?

What if he made a really bad mistake and embarrassed himself in front of everyone here and Larry wouldn't let him ever dance again?

In the two brief seconds before the music began, he scanned the audience for his parents, but didn't spot them. The lights were so bright he couldn't see anyone beyond the third or fourth row.

He wondered what Larry was thinking.

Larry had never really seen him dance before.

And then the music began, and his dance was the one and only thing on his mind.

The only thing he was focused on were the music, his steps, his leaps, and his turns.

It was only when he finished and everyone clapped that he remembered where he was.

He hadn't forgotten his dance. He hadn't made any bad mistakes.

Bowing and then making his way backstage, he found himself half-tackled by Luke. "Dude, your dance was amazing!"

"Really?" he blinked in surprised. "It was good?"

"Super-duper good," Zoe assured him. Connor grinned, proud of himself, and delighted that he had done well at his first recital.

He wondered if Larry had been watching, and if he would finally see how much he loved dance, and how he good he was at it, and maybe he would allow him to continue dancing.

The other dancer, the boy with the tap shoes, was performing now, and Connor loved the rhythmic tap, tap, tapping of his shoes against the stage.

Maybe he could convince his parents to let him learn tap, since they would have seen that boys could dance tap as well.

It was worth a shot.

.

.

.

When the recital was over, the three of them gathered together for pictures, clutching the bouquets of flowers their parents had presented them.

"You all did great!" Mrs. Davidson gushed. "Well done!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Davidson," they said, blushing a little at the compliment.

"I got it all on video, well done, everyone," Cynthia said, tucking the camera into her bag.

"Where's Daddy?" Connor asked.

"He had to use the restroom, he should be back soon."

"Did he like my dance?"

"Oh, of course, I'm sure he did."

"Did you see the boy who did the tap dance?" he continued. "I liked it a lot."

"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Davidson said, "He was very good. In fact, Luke's starting tap lessons next month."

"Really?" He turned to Luke, a little jealous. "You never told me."

Luke laughed a little sheepishly. "I keep forgetting to."

"Mom, can I learn tap, too?" Connor asked, tugging on Cynthia's sleeve.

"I'll have to discuss it with your dad," she said absent-mindedly, and he was pretty sure that was the end of the discussion, since Larry most likely wouldn't actually want him to do any more dancing.

"Daddy! What did you think of my dance?" Zoe exclaimed, running towards Larry as he approached their little group.

"It was very good, my little butterfly," he laughed, scooping her up in his arms and causing her to shriek with delight.

Connor was about to ask the same when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw it was Mrs. Shapiro.

"You did so well, Connor," She said, and Connor couldn't help the broad smile that spread across his face. "This was honestly one of your best dances this year."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shapiro," Connor beamed, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

"Hey, we have to go," Mrs. Davidson informed Cynthia. "We're taking Luke out for pizza to celebrate, it's a little after-show ritual that we have."

Cynthia smiled and nodded. "Sure! We're actually taking the kids to A La Mode, so I'll see you next week!"

Connor waved to Luke, and followed Cynthia to the car, Larry just behind them, still carrying Zoe.

"What about my makeup, Mummy?" Zoe asked, as they buckled their seatbelts and Larry pulled out of the parking lot.

"We can take it off at home, for now, you get to be a butterfly," Cynthia replied, and Zoe giggled.

Deciding that it was now or never, and simultaneously wanting to get it done and over with, Connor finally mustered up his courage and asked, "What did you think of my dance, Daddy?"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **tony nominations are out and im so excited except that my girls caissie levy and barrett wilbert weed were both robbed :(**

 **anyway!**  
 **if you liked this chapter please leave a comment!**  
 **and smash that kudos button for more ballet connor content ;)**

 **also hmu on tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking)**


	29. boulevard of broken dreams

**summary: in which society does not take kindly to the fact that connor dances ballet**

 **tw: bullying/hinted homophobia**

 **chapter title from american idiot the musical**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"What did you think of my dance, Daddy?"

There was a brief moment of tense silence in the car, and Cynthia looked expectantly at her husband as they all waited for his response.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, awkwardly tapping his finger against the steering wheel. "It was… I wish you'd put the effort you put into dance into sports, Connor. You'd go far, I think you really would."

Connor couldn't help the disappointment that immediately bubbled up inside him. Of course Larry hadn't liked his dance. It wasn't good enough. Why did he ever think of getting his hopes up? Larry would never like the fact that his son—his oldest child, his only son—liked to dance ballet. His dad was probably so embarrassed right now, because of him, because he couldn't behave like a normal boy.

He leaned back in his seat, trying not to let the tears well up.

Just then, Zoe piped up, "I thought Connor's dance was good!"

He looked over at her and she smiled. He smiled back gratefully.

"Yes, Connor, you and Zoe both did great today!" Cynthia added, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically, and Connor mumbled a half-hearted "Thanks." Part of him was telling him that they were just trying to make him feel better, and that they didn't really mean it. His dance really wasn't that great.

However, he cheered up significantly as they pulled up at A La Mode. "I'm so hungry, I think I could eat all the ice-cream in the shop!" He exclaimed as they headed in. The lady behind the counter laughed.

Cynthia chuckled. "Sorry, bud, you gotta keep it to one scoop."

"I want strawberry," Zoe decided.

"And I want chocolate chip," Connor added.

"We can definitely do that," Cynthia agreed, "now why don't you guys go find a booth to sit in? Daddy and I'll get the ice-cream."

The two of them slide into one of the empty booths, followed shortly by Larry and Cynthia, with the ice-cream and milkshakes. The kids eagerly dug into their ice-creams, not speaking a word until they had finished nearly half.

"So, did you have a good time this evening?" Cynthia asked.

They nodded. "I liked my dance, it was fun," Zoe said, shoveling another spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth and wincing a little at the cold.

"Was it scary?"

"Nope!" She said proudly.

Connor poked at his ice-cream, which was beginning to melt. "It was a bit scary at first, but I still had fun."

Larry was quietly sipping his milkshake, looking as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know how to. Finally, he pushed his drink aside and said, "Connor, I… I wish you would take Little League as seriously as you took your dance classes."

Connor groaned loudly and slumped against the back of the booth. "Dad… I like dance. I don't like baseball."

Larry sighed. "Well, maybe—"

But Cynthia cut him off with a gentle nudge of her elbow. "Larry, please, not now." He grumbled something Connor couldn't make out and returned to his drink.

.

.

.

Later that night, Connor was getting ready for bed, and was heading downstairs for one last drink of water. But when he got to the foot of the staircase, he heard his parents arguing in the kitchen. He hesitated, trying to listen in and assess the situation before going in to get his drink.

"—should just let him enjoy the night!"

"I didn't say that I wasn't!"

"In the car, couldn't you just give him a word of praise?"

"I don't want to encourage that kind of behavior."

Oh.

They were talking about his dance.

"He enjoys it, can't you see that? At least offer some support!"

"Thea, ballet isn't something boys should be doing."

"Bullshit! He likes it, just give him a break. How would you like it if your dad didn't support your playing baseball?"

"That's different."

"Not, it isn't."

"You're being ridiculous. You know I want what's best for him."

"Well, you certainly don't seem to show it," Cynthia muttered.

He sighed. "I know he doesn't like baseball, but I need to push him, help him develop his coordination, his sportsmanship."

"This isn't about baseball, it's about ballet. Did you see how unhappy he was in the car? When you wouldn't even acknowledge his dance?"

"Look, we can't be happy all the time, right?"

Connor decided that he didn't want to hear any more, and he didn't really need that drink. He returned to bed, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

Sometimes he wondered why his parents fought so much. He wondered if they didn't like each other. Sometimes he would fight with Zoe, but afterwards they would be okay and play together again. After his parents fought, they wouldn't talk to each other for the next day or two.

He also wondered what else might happen. He knew that one of the boys in his class said that his parents fought a lot. And then they had gotten a divorce. Which meant that his dad got a U-Haul and left his mom and moved to another state because they didn't want to be with each other anymore.

Connor didn't want his parents to get a divorce.

.

.

.

It was the first day back to school after Christmas break. Connor was placing his books inside his locker, when someone grabbed the collar of his shirt and spun him around, slamming his back into the locker.

"What the heck?" he managed to wheeze out, as he found himself face to face with Marcus, one of the boys who was one grade higher than him. The two never interacted, and Connor had no idea what Marcus might want with him.

"If it isn't the sissy Connor Murphy!" Marcus sneered, his grip on Connor's shirt not loosening.

Connor's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, trying to pry Marcus' fingers loose.

Marcus grinned meanly at him. "Remember your Christmas dance recital?"

Connor paled. No no no, this had to be a trick, no one at school knew that he danced. "What?" he finally squeaked out.

Marcus chuckled. "My sister takes dance at that studio, too. My parents forced me to go to her recital. And guess who I saw dancing ballet? You."

He finally let go of Connor's collar, but remained standing in a way that trapped Connor between him and the lockers. "Are you gay?"

Connor flushed crimson. "Of course not," he scowled, trying to hide the shame and fear that seemed to be ready to eat him up.

Just then, Jared happened to walk past, and before he even knew what was happening, Marcus reached out and grabbed his arm. Jared let out a startled yelp as Marcus dragged him over. Connor looked between the two of them, silently begging Marcus not to tell anyone. Jared just looked bewildered and a little frightened.

"Guess what Murphy's been up to," Marcus gloated, evidently enjoying the panic that was written across Connor's face.

"Marcus, don't," he pleaded.

Jared looked interested now. "What?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"He's a ballerina," Marcus laughed loudly.

Jared gawked, momentarily stunned into silence. "No way."

"I saw him dance at my sister's recital."

"Holy crap," Jared shook his head, adjusting his glasses up his nose. "You're such a freak."

He started down the corridor towards the classroom, leaving Connor face to face with Marcus.

"Piss off," Connor snapped at Marcus.

"Nuh uh, I'm not done with you yet," Marcus began, but suddenly stumbled to the side as if he'd been shoved.

"You leave my brother alone," Zoe snarled. Despite her twin pigtails and pink backpack, she looked incredibly fierce at that moment, but even so, Connor couldn't help but feel concerned at what Marcus might do to her.

"Oh, it's Connor's baby sister," Marcus teased, as he turned to face her.

"Leave Connor alone," she hissed.

He laughed, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh yeah? Or else? What will you do to me?"

Zoe stood her ground, folding her arms and glaring up at him. "Or else I'll tell your crushSabrina Patel what you did at Nicole's house on Wednesday, and then she won't want to marry you anymore," she said calmly and evenly.

Marcus turned red and spluttered out something unintelligible, before stomping off towards the classrooms.

Zoe stuck her tongue out at his retreating figure, and Connor couldn't help but laugh, despite still feeling shaken up after the incident. "Thanks, sis," he said quietly as he bent down to pick up his books from the floor.

"Yeah, no problem," she shrugged. "Marcus is a stupid meanie."

"What happened at Nicole's house?" he asked curiously.

She giggled. "He spilled orange juice all over his shirt and then cried like a baby."

Connor laughed, too. Then he paused, a little more subdued. "Mummy always says I should protect you, 'cause I'm older… but it's just, I don't know, weird? Because a lot of times it's like you're protecting me." He looked down at his shoes. "I'm not a very good big brother."

"No," Zoe countered playfully. "I have to protect you because I am the tallerone!" She winked, then added, "Also, I'm bigger, and you're smaller. Even though you're older."

"Hey!" he reprimanded, tugging at one of her pigtails.

She batted at his hand. "Oh, go away."

"Okay," he nodded. "I'm going to class."

"Okay, bye, Connor."

"Bye Zo-Zo, I love you."

"I love you, too."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **i love writing angst. sue me.**

 **(actually please don't. i'm broke.)**

 **but feel free to express your hatred for me in the comments, while i sit behind my computer screen and cackle at your pain.**

 **alternatively, leave me some kudos or say hi at .com**


	30. of sweaters and airplanes

**summary: In which Connor receives a sweater and an airplane, and only one makes it out of this chapter alive**

 **Inspired by:**

 **-Bedroom Down the Hall**  
 **-you know THAT part in the show...**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Cynthia had picked up knitting with several other ladies from church over the summer. She spent weeks poring over various instruction booklets before deciding to knit gifts for the children's Christmas presents. After a handful of failed attempts, several discarded projects, and even a few instances where tears were shed, she had finally completed them, although she had slightly overestimated her ability and they were only finished three days after Christmas.

For Zoe, she had made a pink scarf and a pair of mittens; for Connor, a sweater.

Zoe had immediately fallen in love with them, going so far as to wear her scarf around the house, and never forgetting her mittens whenever they went outside. Unfortunately, Cynthia had accidently messed up some of the measurements on Connor's sweater, and did not realize it until it was too late. Despite her frantic efforts to salvage it, it still ended up a little too broad for his shoulders, and hung awkwardly on his small frame. He couldn't help but grimace the first time he looked at himself in the mirror.

"It doesn't really fit."

"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry, I messed up the stiches, I think," Cynthia apologized, still frustrated at herself for not being able to get such a simple present right.

Connor turned around in front of the mirror, trying to tug the sweater into a more comfortable position, but to no avail. Finally, he asked, "Can I take it off?"

"Yes, you may," Cynthia said dejectedly, before an idea came to her and she brightened up, suggesting, "How about I make you another sweater? Just like this one, but with the correct measurements and all. I'll try to get it done in time for your birthday."

"Well…" he hesitated, playing with the sleeves of the sweater. "I don't… it's kinda itchy…" But seeing how her face fell, he quickly added, "But could you maybe make me a scarf? So Zoe and I can match?"

Cynthia smiled, nodding vigorously. "Oh, yes, I can definitely do that." She reached out to take the sweater once he had taken it off.

He shook his head. "I want to keep it."

"But you can't wear it," she reminded him, a little puzzled.

"I know. But I still want to keep it. I'll hang it in my closet, 'cause you made it for me, which still makes it special." He said, hugging the balled-up sweater to his chest.

Cynthia thought she might have a teared up just a little at that.

.

.

.

It was the last week of January when they next went to Autumn Smiles. Connor loved the orchard, especially in late winter. It was still cold enough that they could see their breath, especially on a clear day. Even though there were no apples on the trees, there was still something eerily beautiful about all the bare branches. Not many people went to the orchard so early into the year, and the place was mostly empty.

Connor liked it this way. He didn't like places with too many people—like school. School was too noisy, and it only got more and more unbearable each day. While Zoe's threats had evidently scared Marcus into silence, Jared had been more than enthusiastic about letting their entire grade know that Connor Lawrence Murphy was a ballet dancer. When Connor had realized that his classmates all knew he danced, he'd gone home and cried so hard that Cynthia thought he would make himself sick.

He'd skipped school for the next two days, until an exasperated Larry put his foot down, demanding that Connor man up and return to his classes. Zoe had indignantly declared that she would 'break Jared's ugly nose' when she next saw him, except that Cynthia threatened her with a grounding if she ever did such a thing, because they all knew that she was highly inclined to carry it out. Of course, Connor was thankful for his sister's support, but he was secretly hoping that he would get an opportunity to punch Jared himself, and make him sorry.

Maybe that was why he liked the orchard so much, because there was no one there that would tease him about being a dancer, or push him into the lockers. It was just him, Zoe, Skywalker, his parents, and the trees.

He liked the trees.

They had been learning about trees in science class, and he loved how strong and pretty they were. Sometimes he wished that he could be a tree, because trees didn't have to talk to people or deal with bullies; they just needed to stick their roots into the soil and grow into something big and beautiful.

And then someone would notice them, and think that they were pretty or strong or at least something that was good and beautiful.

Not like him. The only reason he was noticed at school was because he was a freak.

Cynthia had tried to convince Connor to have a big birthday party, but he hadn't had anyone to invite, even if he had wanted one. He didn't want to invite anyone from school, because all they did was tease him; he didn't want to invite the boys from Little League since he never really talked to them and they would only talk about baseball anyway; he didn't know anyone else at dance other than Luke because they were all girls. And so, his birthday party had just consisted of his family and Luke's.

Cynthia had planned on inviting the Harrises since 'they're family friends and they only live down the street', but Connor had thrown a fit and called Samuel a 'jerk' and absolutely refused to let him anywhere near the party, and even Zoe had taken his side, and Cynthia finally dropped the matter completely.

In the end, he just had a small birthday party, although Cynthia had splurged on the decorations and cake, and Connor felt it was probably more to comfort herself over the fact that her own son didn't have more than one friend to invite to his birthday party.

But it didn't matter to Connor. He had had a blast, the three of them—him, Luke, and Zoe. Luke had even gotten him a remote-control plane as a birthday gift. He had been so excited for the weather to be warm enough so they could fly the plane in the orchard, and not just in their backyard.

Now he fiddled with the remote until the plane smoothly took off into the air. Skywalker barked and was about to chase after it, but Zoe shook her head and gave her a ball instead. For a full fifteen minutes, Connor played with the plane, trying all kinds of tricks and had almost mastered the nosedive when Zoe, bored of playing fetch with Skywalker, came up to him and asked,

"May I play with it for a while?"

"Wait," he brusquely replied. "I want to play with it for a while more."

"But you've been playing with it for so long and I haven't gotten to play with it yet!" she protested.

"But it's my plane!" Connor shot back, turning his back to her.

"Connor," Cynthia called, "Let Zoe play with your plane for a short while."

"But—"

"Remember, you still have to share, even if it's your present."

Connor grumbled and reluctantly handed the controller to Zoe. He watched her play with it for a few minutes, before he impatiently asked for it.

"I'll show you this really cool turn I can do with it," he bragged, and took the controller from her to demonstrate.

"That's super cool," Zoe admitted, "But can I play again after your turn?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Actually, Con, can I try flying your plane, too?" Larry asked.

"But it's my turn and I just started," Connor sighed.

"Just for a little while?"

"Okaaayyyy…" he relented, relinquishing his controller yet again.

He played a short game of tag with Skywalker before returning to where Larry and Zoe stood by the lake, playing with the little red and black plane.

"Make it go higher, Daddy!" Zoe exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

"Wait, where is it?" Connor asked, squinting upwards towards the sky, but not seeing a glimpse his plane.

Larry frantically jiggled the controller. "I think I made it fly a _little_ too high," he muttered, pushing the joystick so that the plane would dip back down.

It suddenly appeared in their line of sight, diving towards the lake.

"Wait! Stop!" Connor shrieked. "Go up! Go back up!"

Larry tried to steer the plane back up, but it was too late. The little plane hit the surface of the water before going under, as the three of them looked on in horror.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **hiii i am back from my hiatus and i am done with high school and between my posting this chapter and the last we have had a new connor murphy what is this fuckery oh my god**

 **jk i love alex boniello to death**

 **anyway! leave a comment and let me know what you think! they always motivate me to write more**  
 **and don't forget that you can always hit me up on tumblr if you ever want to chat about this fic, or musical theatre in general**

 **.com**


	31. rage

**summary: In which Connor's plane is broken and he is not pleased.**

 **inspired by the airplane incident the murphys mention in the show**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The plane splashed underwater before turning upside down and floating back up.

And then the tense silence was broken by Connor's scream.

"You broke it!" he cried, turning to Larry and hitting him as hard as he could with his little fists. "You broke my plane! I hate you! I hate you!"

Startled by the sudden commotion, Cynthia raced over and was momentarily stunned by the sight before her. "No, Con, you can't do that," she exclaimed, rushing to wrestle him away from his father. "Stop it!"

"He broke my plane!" Connor half-screamed and half-sobbed, struggling wildly against her firm grip. "It was my birthday present and now it's broken!"

Zoe was rooted to the spot, face pale and staring at her brother.

"Connor, I'm so sorry…" Larry said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and unsure of what to say, but then he tried to crack a smile. "I guess the plane had to make an emergency landing."

"That's not funny!" Connor howled, his tear-streaked face turning red. "Go away!"

Larry swallowed and looked apologetically at Cynthia. "I… I think I'll give him some space," he mumbled, leading Zoe and Skywalker away.

"Connor Murphy, I want you to calm down, _now_." Cynthia ordered.

Connor simply threw himself down on the grass and wept.

He didn't care if the ground was cold, or if he was getting his new knit scarf stained with mud. All he cared about was that his favorite thing in the world, his birthday present from his best and only friend, was lying in the lake, broken and never going to fly again.

The lake.

It was still in the lake.

He had to get it out of there.

He pulled himself up, dashing towards the lake.

The water was cold enough that it gave him a start as it soaked through his shoes and socks. He almost lost his footing just as Cynthia grabbed him by his jacket and hauled him out of the lake.

"Connor, what are you doing!" she scolded, her face pale. "You know you can't swim!"

"I want my plane!" He began to cry again.

He knew he was being ridiculous and childish, he was nine years old, too old to be crying over a stupid remote-controlled airplane, but he just couldn't help it, he was so, so angry. And his shoes and his socks were now wet and cold and he was just downright miserable.

"Daddy will get your plane for you," Cynthia said firmly. "Now go to the car and take off your shoes and socks; we're going home."

He sniffled and stormed towards the car, yanking the door open. He tore his soggy shoes and socks off, slammed the door shut behind him, and just lay down in the middle row.

What was supposed to be a good day was now completely ruined and he wanted to scream or throw something to show them how angry he felt, but at the same time he just wanted up curl up in a ball on his bed, under all the covers, and have a good long cry.

He could hear his family talking to each other, and put his hands over his ears.

He was mad at them. Mad mad mad.

This wasn't just Larry's fault. It was Zoe's fault, too.

She'd been the one who had asked Larry to fly the plane higher, and that had been what caused him to lose control.

A familiar face appeared in the car window and Skywalker whined to be let in. He opened the door for her, and she stepped in, nuzzling the palm of his hand and begging for pats. He stroked her soft fur as he tried to catch his breath. His nose was running and his eyes felt swollen from crying too hard.

A few moments later, Cynthia got into the car, followed by Zoe and Larry.

Connor slumped back in his seat in a sullen silence, Skywalker draping herself comfortably over his lap.

"Connor, do you want to go to A La Mode?" Cynthia asked in a chirpy voice, evidently trying to cheer him up.

"I want to go home," he muttered crossly.

"We can go for some ice-cream first! Do you want to get two scoops?" They were never allowed so much ice-cream, and Zoe looked in surprise over at Connor.

If it had been any other day, he would have jumped at such a rare opportunity. But today he just didn't feel like it. He didn't feel like anything, he didn't know what he wanted.

He was just angry.

Larry glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry about the plane, Connor."

Connor simply glared back at him. Larry uncomfortably looked away, turning back to the road.

They went straight home, and Connor stomped up to his room, slamming the door shut as hard as he could.

A few minutes later, there came a tentative knock at the door.

"Go away."

"Connor, it's me." It was Zoe.

"I said to go away!" he yelled, throwing his pillow towards the door as hard as he could. Why couldn't they just leave him alone!

He heard her bedroom door click shut.

The house was warm, and he was feeling stifled, and it was just making him even more irritated. He dumped his jacket and scarf in the middle of the room, then crawled into bed, just lying on top of his covers and staring blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

"Connor, can I come in?" Larry asked, knocking on his door.

Connor growled in frustration, crossing the room and yanking open the door. "What do you want," he demanded, his tone clipped.

Larry shifted awkwardly, saying, "Con, I'm just. I'm really sorry about your plane." Connor didn't respond and he continued, "I… if you want, I'll buy you another one just like it."

"I don't want another plane!" Connor exploded. "This one was special and you broke it! You ruined everything!"

"Connor, what do you want, I'll make it up to you—"

"Go away!" Connor shouted. "Just go away! I don't want to talk to you ever again!"

Ignoring the hurt expression on his father's face, he slammed the door shut and locked it, then threw himself on his bed and had another fit of crying. In the end, he was so exhausted from his outbursts that he simply fell asleep.

It was a few hours later when he was awakened by Cynthia knocking on the door.

"Connor, unlock this door."

"Go away," he said, his voice still groggy.

"Connor, either you unlock the door yourself or I'm going to my room and getting the master key."

He knew that when she said something in that tone of voice, she would do as she said, so he sullenly got up and yanked the door open, before going back to sit on his bed.

Cynthia shut the door behind her and took a seat next to him. "Honey, the way you spoke to your dad just now was unacceptable, do you understand?" she said, her voice quiet but carrying a firmness to it that meant she wasn't pleased with him at all.

"He broke my plane," Connor replied, his voice equally low and clearly laced with anger. He was just so, so tired.

"I know you're upset, but you need to think about how your words have consequences," she paused for a moment. "Your dad… he's been hurt by what you said to him just now, you know."

That made Connor feel bad, because he knew what it felt like to be hurt by the mean things that people said. But at the same time, he was still angry. So instead of showing that he felt sorry, he turned away from her and muttered, "Serve him right, he hurt me too."

"Connor, you know that's not how it works."

He didn't respond.

She sighed. "Well, it's dinnertime. Why don't you wash your face and come downstairs? And I want you to apologize to your dad. You're nine years old, I don't want any more temper tantrums, understood?"

He really, really didn't want to apologize to Larry, but he could tell that she wasn't going to back down. And honestly, he was too tired to argue by now. He went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and changed out of his muddy and grass-stained clothes. He could hear the rest of his family talking downstairs, and the clink of metal as Cynthia finished setting the cutlery.

He slowly shuffled over to the dining table, pausing halfway down the staircase.

Larry turned and Connor mumbled a quiet, "I'm sorry for what I said to you just now, Daddy."

Larry held out his arms, and Connor went in for a hug. "And I'm sorry for breaking your plane, Connor."

Connor was too tired to protest, and as Larry held him tightly in his strong arms, he suddenly realized he couldn't find it in him to be angry anymore.

"It's okay… I guess."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **leave a comment and let me know what you think! they always motivate me to write more**  
 **and don't forget that you can always hit me up on tumblr if you ever want to chat about this fic, or musical theatre in general**

 **.com**


	32. starry nights

**summary: Connor & Zoe talk**

 **i am so so sorry for my long hiatus, i was busy preparing for my trinity grade 8 speech & communications exam (i just got my results back and i got a distinction award so yayyy i'm over the moon honestly) and then i got sick and i'm just recovering from a really bad allergy reaction SO THAT WAS FUN**

.

.

.

It was in the middle of June when Larry got a phone call from Texas in the middle of the night. His mother had passed away from a stroke.

The four of them flew down for the funeral, and spent the week at Larry's borther's house of the week, as they finished up some last-minute arrangements. When they finally flew back home, the weather was arm enough for Zoe and Connor to do one of their favorite activities—stargazing.

One night, neither Connor or Zoe could sleep, so they crept out to the backyard with their blankets and stuffed animals. The night sky was clear and there was a cool breeze blowing. They laid their blankets side by side on the grass, sitting on top of them.

"Look, Zoe, that's Orion," Connor whispered, pointing at the constellation. He had been going through a phase of loving astronomy, spending hours at the library devouring books all about space.

Naturally, Zoe wanted to do everything that her big brother did, and also became interested in astronomy, always begging him to share fun facts about the different planets and stars.

"One day, I want to be an astronaut and explore the stars," she murmured, lying down on the blanket.

Connor lay down, too. "You can't go to the stars, silly. They're great big balls of super hot gases."

"Is that what stars are really made of?"

He nodded. "That's what the encyclopedia said."

"There was this book I read where the girl in the story said that stars are the souls of the people who have died. They live in the stars so they can watch over us, and protect us."

There was a moment of somber silence between them. They both thought back to their grandmother's funeral.

"Do you think Grandma is in the stars?" Zoe finally asked.

"I don't know…" Connor admitted. "But it's like, a nice thought."

"Where would you like to be, if you could be a star after you die?" she asked, after another short pause.

"I want to be in the darkest parts of the sky, because then people will be able to see me more easily," he finally decided. "What about you?"

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, thoughtfully replying, "I think I want to be with the other stars—maybe part of a constellation. Then we can talk to each other every night about what is going on down here on Earth. Because being just one star on your own sounds kind of lonely."

Connor nodded. That sounded a lot like what he thought she would say. Zoe always liked talking with people, and she made friends easily, because she was sweet and nice. Not like him. He was awkward and skinny and weird, and he always got angry at people or did something stupid.

Maybe that was why he liked reading books so much, because stories were so much cooler than real life. Like, he could be Spiderman, and live a life full of adventures and saving people, instead of having to go to school and do his homework. His favorite book was The Little Prince, and both he and Zoe had read it to each other dozens of times.

"Do you think Asteroid B-612 is real?"

"I want to believe it," Zoe smiled. "Even though I know it isn't. because sometimes it's much nicer to believe the things in stories than in real life."

That was true. Connor thought that Zoe was very smart, and many times he himself had also wished that he could just be a character in a story, instead of having to live in this life, because real life kind of sucked.

One small blessing was that he had finally convinced his parents to take him out of Little League. Larry hadn't been thrilled about it at all, but he was becoming too busy with his job, and Cynthia had put her foot down on taking Connor, since it overlapped with her book club. Maybe another reason was due to how awful of a player he was—he'd spent probably half the time benched, much to Larry's chagrin. The last straw finally came when Larry's mother passed, and the family became rather overwhelmed with packing, flying down, and funeral arrangements. But for whatever reason it was, Connor was no longer in Little League, and honestly the happier for it.

Next to him, Zoe yawned, and Connor realized how sleepy he was getting too.

"I'm going to fall asleep now," he announced, cuddling his stuffed zebra to his chest. "Goodnight, Zo-Zo."

"Me too, Connor," she replied sleepily. "Goodnight."

Connor rolled over onto his side, away from Zoe, as they both tried to fall asleep. But despite feeling exhausted, Connor couldn't stop thinking about what some of the relatives had been talking about during the funeral.

Most of it had been of them sharing memories of how good and sweet his grandmother was, with Larry and his brothers talking about how great a mother she had been. Connor only got to see her every few Thanksgivings, so he hadn't really gotten to know her, but one phrase in particular had stood out to him.

"She'd passed away peacefully, in her sleep."

In her sleep.

To Connor, that was kind of creepy. That people could just go to sleep and never wake up again. It almost made him afraid of going to sleep. Even though he was nine years old and knew that going to sleep wasn't something you had to worry about. Besides, he reminded himself, that was only for old people, not for young kids like him.

But even as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder how he might die one day, many many years later, when he was finally an old man. And then he wondered if it was very strange for him to be so preoccupied with such thoughts.

It was just slightly past one in the morning when Cynthia woke up and went to check on the children, as she usually did each night. When she found the door to Zoe's bedroom ajar and her bed empty, she initially assumed that Zoe was simply sleeping over in her brother's room. But when she found Connor's bedroom empty as well, she experienced a brief moment of panic before the backyard came to mind, since they had often slept outside the previous summer. Hurrying down the stairs and ito the yard, she paused for a moment at the threshold.

Connor and Zoe were sprawled out on their blankets, sleeping soundly. The sky was cloudless and a light summer breeze ruffled her hair as she picked Zoe up and carried her up to her room, before returning to fetch Connor. When she tucked him into his bed, he stirred and mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. She tenderly kissed him goodnight, shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **anyway this chapter is kind of a filler, too short, unedited bc time, and honestly just a mess and i don't really like it. but? um? comment? motivate me? i'm so sorry i've been absent so long**

 **i won't be posting in july since i'll be visiting the u.s. for a conference BUT I ALSO HAVE TICKETS TO DEAR EVAN HANSEN AND WOW I'M HONESTLY FREAKING OUT?**  
 **so expect a post on that once i've seen it!**

 **meanwhile u can follow me for updates on my tumblr ( thewickedverkaiking)**

 **last but not least happy pride 3**


	33. my favorite hello and my hardest goodbye

**oof that was a much longer hiatus than i meant bc i was in the u.s. for a month and then i had really bad writer's block and like absolutely no motivation and i don't love this chapter that much but uhhh it's something i guess?** **summary: "If Larry were here, he would probably tell Connor to stop crying. That he shouldn't be so sensitive, but right now, all he wanted to do was to lock himself in his room and scream and cry because his best and only friend was going to leave and they were probably never going to see each other again."** **.** **.** **.**

It was just over a month before Connor was done with fifth grade, and Cynthia had allowed him to have a sleepover at Luke's house over the weekend. Connor always liked having sleepovers at Luke's, because they got to stay up late at night, and also because Mrs. Davidson served proper party food. For dinner, she'd made macaroni and cheese and ordered a pepperoni pizza, something that Connor knew his mother would never allow, even if it was for a sleepover. She always talked about the importance of eating organic fruits and vegetables, but Connor honestly didn't understand why he had to eat so much salad—he wasn't a cow. Mrs. Davidson also made sure her family ate enough fruits and vegetables too, but at least she allowed them junk food on special occasions. Which basically meant that most of Connor and Luke's sleepovers had taken place at the Davidson's residence.

After dinner, the two boys settled on the couch to eat chips and watch Iron Man. When the movie was over, they battled it out on Mario Kart before Mrs. Davidson reminded them that it was nearly midnight and they really should go to bed.

They changed into their pajamas and crawled into Luke's bed; there was more than enough space on the queen-sized mattress for both of them to sleep comfortably at night, even though Luke often ended up pushing Connor towards the edge most mornings, which they always found hilarious.

"I have something really important I need to tell you," Luke mentioned, as he flicked off the lights and climbed into bed.

Connor reached over to turn on the night light sitting on the bedside drawer. "What?"

They were lying side by side, neither of them feeling very sleepy yet. There was a moment of silence as Luke searched for the best way to break the news to his best friend. "Um, we're… over summer, we're going to be moving to New York City."

"Wait, for real?" Connor gasped in astonishment. "That's awesome, how long will you be there?"

"Um, we're moving? Like, moving for good—like, to live there."

Connor felt his heart drop. "For good? Why? How?"

"I got into a ballet school, and my parents thought it would be a great opportunity since, you know, I want to do dance, and New York has a lot more opportunities than here."

"Wait, so you're never gonna come back?" Connor felt tears starting to well up in his eyes and tried very hard to focus on his wriggling toes instead.

Luke bit his lower lip. "Probably not… at least for a while," he replied regretfully.

"No… I—I'm going to miss you so much," Connor murmured, trying to keep his voice steady, and still feeling numb from the news.

"I'm—me too."

"You're… you're like the only friend that I've ever had," Connor continued. "I'm going to—I won't have anyone at dance class to hang out with, or even just to talk to."

Luke turned to face Connor, and noticing the wetness on his cheeks, got him a tissue. "We can still call, or email, or something. We'll still be best friends, I promise."

Connor wiped the tears from his eyes. "But it wouldn't be the same."

If Larry were here, he would probably tell Connor to stop crying. That he shouldn't be so sensitive, but right now, all he wanted to do was to lock himself in his room and scream and cry because his best and only friend was going to leave and they were probably never going to see each other again. And Luke was going to be a dancer, which was something Connor's parents would never understand, and never allow him to be. He knew that as Luke's best friend, he should be happy for him, but at the same time it left a bitter taste in his mouth and he couldn't help but feel jealous.

.

.

.

"How was the sleepover?" Cynthia asked when she picked Connor up late the next morning.

"Luke's leaving," Connor choked out from the back seat, feeling the lump starting to rise again in his throat. "He's leaving to go to New York because he got into a ballet school and he's going to become a dancer but we're not going see each other ever again—"

"Oh honey, I know; Mrs. Davidson told me this morning, I'm so sorry," she said sympathetically.

He didn't respond. She wouldn't understand even if he explained how he was feeling. She couldn't, not about how devastated he was, how the one person outside of his family that he could count on was leaving to pursue his dreams—dreams that Connor knew could only stay dreams for himself.

They were supposed to be best friends. When they were together, they could face anything. And even if he had the worst day at school, he could always count on going for dance class with Luke every Wednesdays and Friday, and then everything would be alright again. But now, Luke was leaving, and he wasn't going to come back, and Connor was going to be just alone as he was before he knew Luke.

Except that it was worse now. Because now he was just a nobody at school, like he was back when he first started. No, now he was a massive loser, and he would always be that kid who 'threw a printer at Mrs. G in second grade because she didn't let him become line leader'.

And it was worse because he was going to be even more alone, because he'd now known what it was like to have a best friend. And now this friend was leaving, he was just going to know what it was like to have a friend—and what it was like to lose one.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **i'm sorry that had to happen but we don't have a luke davidson in canon so i guess it was time for him to go. thank you, luke, you were fun to write while it lasted :(**

 **anyway, follow me on tumblr for more writing updates! i'm thewickedverkaiking**  
 **i got to see deh while i was in nyc last month so expect a review to be up there soon!**

 **leave a comment and motivate me :D hopefully the next chapter will be up next week!**


	34. say you'll remember me

**I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS UNTIL NOW**

 **writer's block kicked my ass and also i just lost a lot of motivation**

 **anyway! i hope you like this chapter! and hopefully i'll be better with updating but no promises lmaooo**

 **Summary: Connor and Luke say goodbye.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

July 28th. The day came all too soon. It was nearly the end of the summer break and it was the day Luke was leaving for New York City. The Murphys had driven to the airport to see them off, and Connor couldn't help but feel like this was just one big nightmare that was going on and on and if he could just figure out how to wake up then everything would be fine and Luke wouldn't be leaving.

The Davidsons were already at the airport by the time the Murphys got there, their carts stacked with luggage and boxes. Luke spotted him and ran up to give him a hug. The two boys held each other tightly, as if that could prevent Luke from going away.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Luke finally said, letting go of Connor and readjusting the strap on his backpack.

"I don't want you to go," Connor mumbled numbly, suddenly feeling very lost.

Luke was about to reply when Mrs. Davidson came over from the luggage check-in line and put a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Thanks for being such a good friend to Luke, we're going to miss you, but you're welcome to visit us in New York once we've settled in."

Connor managed to force a smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Davidson." As if a weeklong trip to New York City would ever make up for all the months and years they would be spending apart from each other. It wouldn't be the same. Ever. Why couldn't anyone get that?

"We'll still call like, every week, or even every day, right?" Luke reminded him, noticing his downcast expression.

 _It's not the same. It'll never be the same._ Connor nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Promise me you'll visit me? Soon?" Luke continued.

"Of course, I would love to," Connor said, trying to smile, trying to be happy for him. Happy that his best friend was going to New York, going to have so many new opportunities, going to pursue his dreams.

But in his heart, Connor couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness and envy. And it made him feel bad. Why was he feeling this way? He should be happy, happy for his best friend. Why was he jealous? Why?

"Well, I guess we better make our way through security before the line gets too long, we wouldn't want to miss our flight," Mrs. Davidson said regretfully, passports and boarding passes already in her hand. "Let's go, Luke."

"Bye, Connor," Luke said, hugging him one more time.

Connor tried to squeeze him extra tight for the last time. "Bye, Luke. Have fun. I hope you enjoy life in New York City."

"Thanks, Con," Luke said, tugging his little carry-on luggage behind him, and following slightly behind his parents as they made their way through the security gates. Connor and Zoe both waved to them. Luke turned around and waved to them one last time, before disappearing into the crowd of people that were lining up at the security checkpoints.

Even though he couldn't see them anymore, Connor still stood there, as if hoping that he could catch one last glimpse of Luke before he left. A single tear dripped down his cheek.

Larry placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Do you maybe want to grab something to eat? McDonald's?"

Connor nodded numbly. He knew that this was a treat, and he was grateful that his dad was trying to cheer him up instead of telling him to stop crying and be a man. But at the same time, it was almost laughable that Larry seemed to think that something like McDonald's could make him feel better about his best and only friend leaving.

.

.

.

Connor poked dully at his cheeseburger. It wasn't that he didn't like it. He knew it would probably be a long time before Cynthia would allow him to have fast food again. It was just that his heart hurt and he felt lost and he didn't know what was going to happen to him in the future.

Next to him, Zoe was stuffing her face with fries, her hands streaked and sticky with ketchup. He grabbed a few of the fries for himself before they were all gone.

"Do you want to get more fries?" Larry offered even as Cynthia's eyebrows furrowed at the suggestion.

"Okay," Connor nodded, getting up from his eat and joining Larry in line.

They stood in silence for a while, as the lady in front seemed to be making a million modifications to her family's order, and basically taking forever. Connor picked at a chipped fingernail.

"I know you and Luke were close," Larry quietly said out of the blue, and Connor looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry he had to leave."

Connor nodded gratefully, not too sure what to say, and half-expecting his dad to continue with a "but…". He finally decided on mumbling a "mmhm" in response.

Honestly, he was a little surprised since he knew that Larry was never fond of Luke, since he loved to dance and Larry was concerned about his influence over Connor. Larry seemed to gather that from Connor's unsure response, so he continued with a small sigh, "Look, I don't love the fact that you two… danced a lot. But he was a good kid, and I'm glad he was your friend, okay?"

Connor smiled a little and muttered a sheepish, "Thanks, Dad."

Finally, it was their turn to order. Larry ordered three more packets of fries and a coffee for himself, and once they received the food they returned to their table. Cynthia frowned slightly disapprovingly at the amount of fries they had ordered, although she did not say anything. She did, however, decline when Larry offered her some of his. They ate the rest of their meal largely in silence.

When they got home, Connor locked himself in his room and curled up in bed, not even bothering to change into clean clothes. He lay there for a long time, just replaying in his mind all the favorite moments he had shared with Luke.

On his study table, there was a picture of Luke and him at one of their many sleepovers, in between a picture of Connor and Zoe at the orchard with their four-leaf clovers, and one of their annual family Christmas photos.

Everyone else seemed to act as if it wasn't a big deal. Like it was just something unfortunate that would soon pass. Or it was just a little problem they could solve by visiting New York City over Christmas break.

But to Connor it was everything. His best and only friend was moving. Moving away. Everything was wrong. He felt as if he were drowning, or falling, and there wasn't anyone who could save him.

With Luke gone, Connor realized, it was as if one chapter of his life were suddenly over.

Nothing was going to be the same again.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **if you liked this! please leave a comment! they motivate me soo much!**  
 **also hmu on tumblr if you wanna talk! i'm thewickedverkaiking :))**


End file.
